


Thorns

by autumnmycat



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Body Horror, Corrupted Steven Theory, Delusions, Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not Post-Movie Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Future Canon, Psychological Horror, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2020-12-28 06:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 57,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21132152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnmycat/pseuds/autumnmycat
Summary: Steven knows he's plagued with intrusive images of the past and all the sadness that comes with them, but he is also falling physically ill, much to the dismay of his friends and family. The more he tries to deny himself, his needs, and his emotions, the more it's clear that his physical illness is much more serious than any of them could have ever expected.





	1. Flu

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, i'm too much of a slut for the corrupted steven theory to not write about it. i kind of wrote this chapter at the spur of the moment, so apologies if it takes me a bit to update, but i'd love this to be a real angsty slow burn so we can all savor the breakdown of our son and all the angst that follows. im also writing a pearl fic right now, so hopefully i can juggle both! hahaha why do i do this to myself

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt happy—or much of anything for that matter.

When he recalls his childhood, his mind is filled with memories. He remembers the emotions, and he remembers smells that would bring feelings of comfort. 

(Sitting in his dad’s van with music playing, watching the snow fall as they wrap themselves in soft blankets that smell like soap. There’s a spark of happiness there, but it fades and dulls when he remembers that being with his dad just makes him feel terrible now because he has to fake being happy around him as to not concern him with his trivial matters.)

He’s numb now. There is barely any variation regardless of what happens around him. Amethyst can give him a donut, Pearl can clean up after him, Garnet can sweep him up in her arms, but his brain has forgotten how to react to those events. It leaves him feeling empty.

But, the pain, the sadness—he can still feel that. A tightness in his chest that throbs, that makes it harder to breathe, that makes his skin feel like it's pulled too tight over his body. He can’t help but soak in the melancholia because it’s the only thing left inside him. It’s comforting, almost, in that way. When there is nothing else to support him, falling back into sadness is always there for him. When he can’t feel anything, he can feel the distress, and so he welcomes the distress with open arms, even if it’s painful.

It’s wrapped up in so much that he doesn’t know how to begin to unwind it. When he tries to tug at the end of the string, it’s knotted up so tight in so many places that he’s scared to rip it all down. It may be there for a reason, supporting his insides from spilling out onto the ground. If someone else were to pull too hard, he might break apart into a thousand pieces, and there wouldn't be anything left of him at all.

For that reason, Steven chooses to be alone most of the time.

How possible that is depends on who’s around. If there are people in the house, he can’t truly be alone, but he can disappear within himself, responding only when needed to, smiling any time they come close to seeing all the things he hides from the world. Sometimes, he just goes to bed. And, sometimes, he sleeps the day away because being asleep is better than being awake.

Well, sometimes, anyway.

Sometimes, his dreams are filled with horror, of moments he never lets himself think about. His brain is begging him to unpack some of the events that have occurred in front of his eyes, but since he refuses while conscious, his unconscious takes over. 

Nightmares. Many nightmares. Nightmares that aren’t real but feel so close to being real that they might as well be. Night terrors. Dreams that terrorize him.

They’re like badly made clip reels that have come to life in his subconscious. He’s usually crying, and oh—he’s so sorry, sorry to everyone—sorry about what he’s done, sorry about what _She’s_ done. 

Ugh. He doesn’t want to think about it.

If he’s lucky, he’ll fall into an empty slumber, enveloped by nothingness. This is the best state to be in because it’s as close to not existing as he’s ever managed to experience.

* * *

“Steven?”

Pearl’s voice is quiet. She’s concerned, probably because he’s been in bed all day again. He doesn’t want to move. He wants to pretend like he’s still sleeping so she won’t ask how he’s doing. He doesn’t want to lie, but he has to. He can’t burden them any more than he already has. 

(He wishes he could melt into the sheets and disappear forever, but disappearing forever is impossible unless you die.)

After a moment, he groans out her name.

“Oh, you’re awake! For a second, I thought I was intruding.”

He rolls over to look at her, but he feels cold, like if he gets out from under the covers, he’s going to become frozen solid.

“It’s okay.” His voice is scratchy. It sounds like he’s been smoking a pack a day since he was born. “I just feel sick.”

He manages to find something to say that isn’t a lie. He truly feels ill. But, it’s not a physical illness that plagues him, and he knows that.

“Oh,” Pearl clucks, slowly making her way over to the side of the bed. She sits down next to him and puts her hand to his forehead. She tenses. “You’re warm.”

“I am?” He’s honestly shocked. But, now that he thinks about it, her palm feels frigid against his skin. “I just thought I was tired.”

Pearl reaches into her gem and pulls out a digital thermometer. Steven remembers it from when he was a child, when he would get sick often, probably because his gem powers hadn’t begun to fully activate yet. Since around the age of thirteen, he hadn’t been ‘human-sick’ once, allergies notwithstanding. But, now, Pearl is putting the thermometer under his tongue and giving him a troubled look when it beeps and she pulls it out.

“Oh, dear. 101.3.” Her hand is pressed to her cheek in dismay. “You must have the flu.”

He wonders if it strikes Pearl as weird as it does him. Can being too sad make you sick? Steven doesn’t really have the strength of mind about him to ponder the thought for too long.

“Get some rest,” Pearl instructs with the kindest and most motherly tone she can muster. “I’ll prepare you some soup. That should make you feel better.”

Even though he’s already falling asleep as she walks down the stairs, Steven vaguely thinks that he doesn’t think soup is going to do the trick this time.

* * *

It’s the film reel again. Playing right on cue.

_“I’m sorry, Spinel. I’m really sorry that Mom left you.”_

_“You can’t take away my pain with an _apology!_ You deserve to suffer like I have!” Spinel looks at him from behind her scythe, eyes practically glowing with hatred until she fades into the background_.

_“I’m sorry, Jasper. I’m really sorry you’re corrupted because you were so upset and lonely.”_

_“Pink Diamond was my diamond—_my diamond_—and Rose killed her, Rose killed—herself?” Jasper glitches. What he knows and what she knows aren’t compatible anymore, so she yells out in pain and transforms into that monster that does not exist anymore, but the image of her corruption is seared so deeply in his brain that part of him thinks she may still be bubbled in the heart of The Temple._

_“I’m sorry, Lapis. I’m so sorry that my mom started a war that you got caught up in and that you were trapped in the mirror and the ocean and on Earth—”_

_“Steven…it’s fine,” Lapis smiles, but her eyes are melancholic. “I might have hated you if you weren’t Steven, but you’re Steven, and I could never hate you.” The smile slips from her face when she whispers, “…Even though it still hurts.” She turns and walks away._

_“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Dad. I’m so sorry, Pearl. I’m sorry that Mom made me and that she disappeared because of it. I’m sorry that you both loved her, and now she’s gone.”_

_Pearl and Greg look at each other._

_“Oh, Steven,” Pearl begins, stepping forward even though Steven isn’t sure his form exists, “It’s not your fault. The fact that you and Rose can’t exist at the same time isn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself for existing.”_

_“Pearl’s right, Steven. Rose made her own choices, and you aren’t responsible for them.”_

_This makes Steven angry because he knows it’s a lie._

_“No! All I do is try to make up for Mom’s mistakes. If I’m her, then they _are_ my mistakes! If I’m not responsible, who will be?”_

_Pearl looks pale. She turns to the empty spot next to her, and Garnet appears._

_“Steven…”_

_He falls back into his script._

_“I’m sorry, Garnet. I’m so sorry that Mom didn’t tell you the truth, and I’m sorry you felt betrayed because the war wasn’t what you thought it was.”_

_“…You can’t blame yourself for that. It wasn’t—”_

_“—But, all I do is blame myself! All I do is try not to think about all the things I’m to blame for—”_

_“Calm down, little dude—” Amethyst is suddenly beside him, a hand placed gently on his shoulder, “—you can’t let things weigh on you like that. You’ll drive yourself nuts.”_

_He flinches away, surprised and scared by her sudden appearance._

_“I’m trying not to!” Tears are collecting in his eyes. “I really am trying not to think about it. I don’t want it to weigh me down, but it does! I don’t know how to stop.”_

_“Hmmm.”_

_Steven stops, unsure where this melodic hum is coming from. He looks around wildly. Suddenly, everyone is gone except for him._

_“Maybe it’s just that—”_

_He sees her now, see’s her in all her glory. Her presence in his dreams is utterly terrifying._

_“—you have to suffer as I would have. I’m sorry, Steven.”_

_Her sword is thrust through his stomach, and even though it’s not supposed to break gems, his shatters into a million tiny pieces._

* * *

Steven shoots up in his bed, and he’s screaming again because that dream always makes him scream, always makes him chilled because he’s drenched in his own sweat. He can’t let himself think about it, though, because if he does, he’s afraid it might spill over into the times he’s awake.

His head throbs. Instead of feeling better, the rest has only made him feel worse. His head feels like it’s splitting open, like his actual head is going to burst. He clutches his hands into fists, pulling at his hair, and lets out a tiny groan, knowing it won’t make much of a difference if he suffers quietly because he had just screamed, and Pearl would surely be up in a second to ask what was wrong.

But, as moments pass, it becomes clear that he is alone. 

This distresses him. How long had he been asleep? Why isn’t Pearl downstairs making him soup? He surely had only been asleep for a few minutes. Maybe she went to the grocery store for ingredients? 

He lays back down, staring at the ceiling, trying to will his pounding headache to go away. He really must be sick, he thinks. Almost as if they had been waiting for permission to make an appearance, chills rise up in his body, causing him to shiver. It is uncomfortable, but it also makes him relax into a muted calm, one thought to be unreachable just moments before.

(Like sadness, physical distress could also be comforting. It also relieves the numbness. He could focus on feeling close to the edge of hypothermia instead of the fact that  <strike> his mother haunts his dreams like a ghost not yet put to sleep. ) </strike>

_I’m scared_, he thinks, not knowing what he’s scared of.

_I want my mom_, he thinks, tears welling in his eyes. He knows distinctly that he _doesn’t_ want his mom, that his feelings regarding his mom are as dark as ever, but the basal child instinct inside him desperately aches for the Rose Quartz that loves him unconditionally. The neglected child in him wails for a breast to suckle from, arms to be swaddled in, lips to be pecked with. 

_I feel neglected_, he thinks. He recoils from the thought. He wasn’t neglected. He has four guardians for Star’s sake! But, he is sleeping his days away under blankets and self-loathing over things he has seen and felt and experienced, and he cannot open his mouth for the life of him because he is scared to swap rolls and be the child when he has been the adult for several years now.

_I want to be taken care of_, he thinks. He’s crying now, crying thick tears that roll down his cheeks and into his ears, tears that pitter-patter on the pillowcase as he tries to roll over and push himself up. He knows he wants to be taken care of because he also knows he’ll never ask for it or accept it. Maybe his mind is making his body helpless so he will need to be taken care of.

(But there’s still no one in the house.)

It is then that everything falls into place, and Steven realizes he has not actually awakened from his dream. Well, to be honest, he realizes this because he is shaken awake by Pearl’s voice once more.

* * *

“Ah-ha~” she coos happily. “Homemade chicken noodle with double chicken and double noodle, just the way you like it.”

Steven is propped up so he’s sitting in bed, many pillows supporting his neck and back. He is very thankful for Pearl’s doting, but the horrible headache and subsequent ringing ears has him staring blankly at the gem. She sets the “Breakfast In Bed” tray in front of him (he absently wonders if there’s an official term for such a thing, but his foggy brain can’t recall).

“Thanks, Pearl.”

She smiles sweetly. “Of course, Steven. Anything to make you feel better.”

Her words are as cloying as the soup is hot and salty going down his throat. It honestly does kind of make him feel better, but considering he can’t remember the last time he ate, it might have just been the instantaneous rise in blood sugar alone that soothed a layer of his discomfort.

His head still hurts, though.

(He should probably say something about it to Pearl, but something deep inside the recesses of his mind tells him to hide it away with the rest of everything else. Keep it from her because it’s easier to suffer alone than it is putting his suffering on other people.)

It’s not long before the bowl is gone. Pearl asks if he wants more, but he refuses.

“I need to sleep again. I’m so tired.”

“Alright. Well, if you need anything, I’ll be right downstairs. I’ll try to keep Amethyst and Garnet from making too much noise.”

“Thanks, Pearl.” He manages to smile a small, pained smile. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

If Steven hadn’t known any better, he might have thought that Pearl had become misty-eyed. But, that’s probably just his fever making him see things.

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I want you to feel better.”

In that split second, he considers spilling his guts on the floor, telling Pearl every Bad Thought/Bad Memory/Bad Impulse/Bad Feeling/Bad Dream, every Bad/Bad/Bad/BadBadBadBad—

He doesn’t. He can’t. The hurt is still incubating inside him. He’s not ready to let it burst out of him and burn through the wooden floor. But, it will. The hurt will consume him and everyone around him. It will turn this home into a battlefield that ruins them all from the inside.

He doesn’t know why he knows that, but he does. The premonition scares him much more deeply than any of his dreams could hope to.

Steven turns over and tries to fall back to sleep, praying that he does not have another nightmare that shakes him to his bones.


	2. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even Connie cannot free Steven from the demons inside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boy oh boy, this fic is going to be melodramatic as fuck, isn't it? lmao
> 
> edit: also yeah I forgot Sadie and Lars don't work at the big donut anymore because I've been rewatching the old seasons but I changed it do don't yell at me

He’s been sick for too many days, and so he gets bored. He ignores The Gems’ advice to rest because he’s tired of resting, and resting only gives him more time to turn over unpleasant thoughts in his brain, so yeah. He’s tired of resting.

The only thing he wants to do is see Connie. It’s about the only thing he can think of that would do anything for him, the only thing that would give him a flicker of enjoyment.

(He thinks of internet memes, and laughs to himself as his hell brain says, “_Ma’am, may I have a crumb of serotonin?_”)

He’s not under any delusions. He knows he’s depressed. He’s known for a while now. Steven couldn’t be around all the smart people he’s around and not know that. He’s read Connie’s mom’s textbooks, and he’s gone to the library, and he knows what NetDr is. That’s not what bothers him. What bothers him is that he’s _sick_.

Like actually physically sick.

His fever hasn’t gone down. He knows this because Pearl has been taking his temperature every four hours or so. It’s almost like she’s read Dr. Maheswaran’s textbooks, too. But, nothing else adds up. He doesn’t have any other symptoms. He’s just depressed and has a fever. That’s not enough for NetDr to make any diagnosis besides brain cancer.

This is all spiraling around in Steven’s head, but eventually, he gets to the Big Donut, and Connie is…

Well, she’s really pretty.

He loves her short hair. He thinks to himself that it not only brings out the spunky part of her personality but also highlights how upbeat and optimistic she is. Which happens to be the exact opposite of him as of late.

(Steven feels guilty. He’s bringing her down—no, he’s not. He’s just _sick_. But, it also feels like he’s doing this on purpose, like it’s his fault even though he logically knows it’s not.)

Steven has the fleeting impulse to turn and run the other way.

“Steven!”

Too late. She’s already seen him. It would look bad if he ran away from her now, and he really can’t handle any more guilt/guilt/blame/blame/fault/fault/fault.

“Connie! I love your dress.” The compliment flows so easily out of him that he convinces himself he can do this.

She’s standing next to the tables that they set out for the summer rush, and her dress is so yellow that it makes her look like a sunflower—(that’s a good thing)—and there are little polka dots all over it. It’s so perfectly Connie that Steven feels like he’s going to spontaneously combust.

“Thanks! I just got it.” Her smile beams in his direction and threatens to impale him. “How are you?”

Once the conversation is aimed back at him, he has to physically stop himself from letting his expression fall. 

(He doesn’t know how he feels—well, that’s a lie—he knows he feels sad, like, really sad, but he can’t say that to Connie because she’s a big giant Sunflower with a beaming smile, and he’s a waste of space that spends his time huddling under the covers so he doesn’t have to think about himself. The idea makes him want to cry, but he’s not been able to cry lately so he doesn’t have to waste energy holding back his tears.)

“I’m good,” he lies. “Maybe some sniffles, but nothing super serious.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Then, they’re inside ordering donuts. It happens so slowly that he can’t focus. Dewey is chatting about something, and Connie is laughing, but he can't focus on what they're saying. He looks at a particularly lonely donut and lets his mind float off. It’s the only thing he has the energy for.

His brain feels like it’s full of static, which makes it harder to snap back to reality when Connie grabs his shoulder.

“Steven—?”

“Hm?”

“What kind of donut do you want?” Connie voice is sweet and kind. It gives him forgiveness that he doesn’t deserve.

“Oh, uh—” Donuts. What kind of donuts does he like? What kind of donut does he want? He’s not even hungry and almost feels nauseous, so nothing appeals to him. “I guess a chocolate glaze with sprinkles.”

“You got it!" Dewey says bombastically, still in customer service mode even though he doesn’t have to be. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s it.”

Once they pay, Steven is suddenly sitting across from Connie at a table outside. His brain rattles because he doesn’t remember leaving the store, but it doesn’t concern him much.

“Oh, man. It’s such a nice day.”

Connie stretches, arms extending above her, head tipping back just enough that the sun reflects off her skin. She makes a satisfied noise before picking up her donut (glazed cruller) and taking a bite.

“Yeah. It’s not too hot, which is good.”

The conversation drops off. No surprise since they’re just talking about the weather.

Steven wants to continue chatting, but he just doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to talk about his life, and he’s been keeping up with her Space Camp adventures religiously. So, they fall into a slightly uneasy silence.

(Gosh, he’s tired. It’s been so long since he’s been up out of bed that he forgot how much effort it took to act like an actual person. Maybe he’s just slightly sicker than he thought he was? It’s hard to tell considering he’d felt ill for a long time before he was actually confirmed to have a fever.)

But, his phone buzzes in his pocket, and he’s suddenly pulled back to the land of the living.

[_Pearl: Steven, where are you?_]

Sometimes he hates that Pearl got a phone. Not really, but at this moment he does.

“What’s wrong?”

He looks up, and Connie has her head cocked, chewing her pastry in curiosity.

“Oh, it’s just Pearl. I didn’t tell her I was going to see you, so she’s asking where I am.”

“They still keep that close of an eye on you?”

Ugh, he hated to lie to Connie, but he was lying to everyone recently, so he doesn't feel as bad as he normally would.

“Not really, but Pearl usually likes to keep tabs.”

“Ah.” She’s looking at him funny now. It’s almost like she doesn’t believe him. “Are you okay?”

Steven jumps even though he has no reason to, other than the obvious.

“Me? Yeah, of course. Why?”

“You haven’t touched your donut.”

He looks down. The glazed chocolate stares back up at him.

“And, you’re really spacey.”

“Are you sure it’s not just because you’ve been spending too much time at Space Camp, and you’re seeing it in everything now?”

“Hardy har,” she can’t help but smile even though she’s rolling her eyes. “I’m serious, though. You seem out of it.”

He figures he can let some of the truth loose.

“I’ve been kinda sick lately, so I’ve been in bed for—like—four days now, and I was going to get cabin fever if I didn’t have a change in scenery. So, yeah, I might be spacey. Sorry.”

The exact opposite of what he wants happens. Her eyebrows furrow. He’s accidentally said too much.

“You do look kind of flushed. Are you sure you don’t want to go home and hang out there?”

He internally groans. The last thing he wants to do is spend more time at home, but he’s just _so tired_. However, he knows he can push a little more, so he does.

“No, I need the fresh air.”

“Well, okay.” Connie is obviously not convinced, but she pretends like she is for Steven’s sake. “We can sit on the beach if you want. That might be nice.”

“Sure.” He tries to smile, but the corners of his mouth won’t lift.

As they get up, Steven’s donut is left behind—untouched and alone on the table.

* * *

It is decidedly nice to sit on the beach with Connie. The sun and the sand are warm on his skin, and the sea breeze smells like home. It's almost enough to make him feel something, but the flicker of contentment doesn’t spark large enough to ignite an emotion. It’s so disturbing to him how empty a human being can feel when there’s technically nothing wrong.

He’s so tired that the only thing he can do is lean his head on Connie’s shoulder. She makes a surprised sound but relaxes and sighs just a moment later. 

“This is nice,” she says.

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as if Connie is trying to decide what next to say.

“You know I care so much about you, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Steven lifts his head again and makes eye contact. Connie looks a little sad, but she also has an adoring look to her, a look that he’s seen Ruby give Sapphire and Pearl give his mother’s portrait.

Finally, she leans forward and pecks his cheek, just like the day that Spinel arrived.

For a second everything is silent around them, but then, Steven finally feels a jump of his heart—the pleasant thump of _love_—and it’s the first time he’s felt anything but sadness in so long that it makes his whole body tingle. Then, he grabs his cheek and starts to giggle, and then, Connie is giggling, too, and then, they lean their foreheads together, laughing like the silly children they are, and then—

They are Stevonnie.

It feels like it’s been an eternity since they were _them_, and it’s so nice that they squeeze themselves with their arms and sigh in order to calm the fluttering of butterflies in their chest.

“This is even better,” they say to themselves. “We should do this more often.”

(The Steven half of Stevonnie feels liberated in this new body. He can actually feel emotions properly, and even though it half fills him with despair that he’s normally so hollow, Connie’s half of pure admiration makes it all bittersweet. If Connie is confused about why they feel somewhat conflicted, she doesn’t ask.)

They lay back on the sand, arms behind their head, and look up at the clouds. Most of them are completely nondescript, but if they didn’t know any better, they might have described one of them as looking vaguely butterfly-shaped. 

It’s not really a conscious decision, but they close their eyes and allow their mind to drift off.

* * *

“Steven?”

At first, they don’t want to open their eyes because they’re just _so_ tired and sleeping on the sand feels so good. They want to sleep for a thousand years. But, they hear it again.

“Steven, is that you?”

This time, the familiarity of the voice hits them, and their eyes fly open in shock. They sit up so fast it gives them a head rush.

“M-Mom?”

They can’t believe it for obvious reasons, but Rose Quartz sits on the sand, legs daintily bent to one side. She looks confused, probably as confused as Stevonnie does.

“Steven, you look different than I remember.”

They blink several times. Remember? Steven and Rose have never actually met, not really anyway. Technically, if she’s anywhere in his gem, they would have, but then, she would know about Stevonnie, wouldn’t she? Their head starts to hurt just thinking about it.

“W-Well, I’m—My name is Stevonnie. I’m Steven and Connie.”

“Oh, a _fusion_?” Rose looks bewildered. She gets on her knees and leans forward a bit as if to better study them. “A human fusion? I’ve never seen anything like it. How is this possible?”

“We think it’s because Steven’s half-gem.”

Her whole face lights up.

“Of course! That makes perfect sense. I don’t think I would have ever thought it possible, but seeing you—Stevonnie—” 

She is overcome by their presence, and suddenly, her arms are around them. They don’t remember her getting close enough to do that. 

“I’m so proud of you. I dearly wish I could have fused with humans. But, it’s wonderful that you could have that experience.”

They want to ask why she’s here, how she's here, but Stevonnie is distracted by the way her embrace feels, the way she smells like fresh flowers, the intensity of the longing inside them. This moment is unbelievably perfect, probably due to the fact that it is utterly unbelievable.

Rose releases them and rests a hand on their knee.

“Tell me, do you feel it?”

Stevonnie cocks an eyebrow. 

“Feel it? Feel what?”

“Love.”

The hand on their skin feels cold, but they can’t tell if it’s because she’s changed temperature or they have gotten warmer. A flush blooms on their face, and they can’t help but look a little shocked, especially because they hadn’t yet openly said “The L Word” in the romantic sense to each other. Now, Steven’s dead mom is trying to pull it out of them.

They sit in silence for a while, mouth twisted up as they try to figure out how to answer the question. Do they love each other? It is difficult to say as “love” is not just one emotion but a thousand tiny ones that make up the greater experience that is _love_. Their chest pounds, but ultimately, their expression steels, and they nod with absolution.

“Goodness,” she smiles, clasping her hands together as if she was going to pray. “I’m so glad. It’s a blessing to feel love. What does it feel like?”

“Uh…” Stevonnie falters, their resolute aura draining away almost as quickly as it appeared. “I—I don’t really know. It’s pleasant, I guess. Happy and exciting. But, also, it can be sad sometimes too. It’s a lot of things." They scratch the back of their head nervously. "Don’t you know what it’s like? You loved Dad, didn’t you?”

Rose giggles, and they assume it’s supposed to be in embarrassment, but then, a singular white butterfly lands on her shoulder. Her giggle turns into a laugh, which soon turns into hysterics, like she has heard the funniest joke in the entire world. Stevonnie recoils, fear gripping their heart. They have never seen anyone laugh the way Rose is laughing now.

Eventually, she calms down and wipes a tear from her eye. When she fixes her gaze back on the fusion, her stare has a hollow look to it.

“Oh, Steven,” she sighs through a small smile. “Haven’t you realized?” Stevonnie doesn’t know what she’s going to say, but the dread surrounding them is practically palpable.

** _“I don’t know how to love.”_ **

In an instant, everything changes. They are slammed into fusion space, dark colors spiraling around them, walls closing in. Rose looms in front of them, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face. Even her presence is shrouded in darkness, and she looks absolutely menacing, cast in a light that they have never seen except during the Storm in her Room.

They try to call out to her, but instead of words coming out, they cough out a white butterfly. They gape at it as it flies away. Watching it ascend above them, Stevonnie realizes that the sky is blank. It’s disappeared. A canvas of pure white. Soon, the singular butterfly is impossible to see against the backdrop.

But, then, they realize—

“Oh, _God._”

—the sky is beating its wings.

Thousands—no, _millions _of butterflies pour down from above in what looks like a jet stream. They fly around and around in dizzying spirals, almost worm-like, and then, they descend on their first target—

_Boom!_

The mob slams into the beach, sand exploding in every direction. Once the butterflies rush back up into the sky, Stevonnie can see that there is a crater left behind. They creep closer to it, peering down, mortified.

(A shattered pink diamond.)

_Boom!_

The impact of the swarm has Stevonnie exploding into more butterflies than any person could ever reasonably count.

* * *

A scream leaves their throat before they are even awake, before they are even aware that they have broken back into two children. Terror fills them, and once their eyes are open, they are staring back at each other.

“Oh my God,” Connie says. “Steven, what was…Steven?”

Steven does not say anything. Steven is shaking, hands gripping his shoulders as if he’s trying to prevent himself from ripping in half. Tears hang at the edges of his blown open eyes. He has separated from himself, separated from the rest of the world. Panic consumes him, and before he is able to even comprehend what he is doing, he gets up and races away as fast as he can.

(It’s like the white butterflies are chasing him in real life, too. He can _almost_ see them, but they aren’t actually there like they are in his daydreams and nightmares.)

He vaguely hears the sound of his name being called, but it’s impossible to tell if that’s real either because the rushing of blood in his ears is so loud. He just knows he has to keep running. He can’t stop. He can’t look back. He just has to _keep going_.

(_Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think—_)

_Don’t think_, he tells himself, not thinking about how he is growing dizzy from the exertion.

_Don’t think_, he tells himself, not thinking about how the edges of his vision are growing darker.

_Don’t think_, he tells himself, not thinking about how his trauma is eating him alive, how every second of his life is monotonous torture, how everything he has shoved so deep inside himself is threatening to individually snip each and every stitch of his consciousness and let his red fluffy stuffing ooze onto the concrete.

His feet fumble and his legs buckle underneath him, and he crashes into a sobbing heap of a boy on the ground. He can’t catch his breath, muscles in his chest feeling paralyzed (even though he is panting and gasping, even though he’s breathing so hard that the air feels like fire going down his throat, which feels raw from how hard Stevonnie had yelled). 

He cannot contain his hysterics, even as Connie manages to catch up with him.

Steven wonders if he’s gone deaf because he can’t hear what she’s saying to him. He wonders if he’s dying, if this is how death feels. He wonders how he can exist for one more second in a body that will always inevitably betray him, in a mind that will always inevitably betray him.

(He wonders just how much longer anyone will put up with him. He can no longer put up with himself.)

His vision finally dims. He has successfully hyperventilated. His brain thanks him for the newfound carbon dioxide.


	3. Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does he deserve pain? Does he deserve suffering? Should he atone for the sins of a gem he has never met?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowee i wrote this quickly (not rushed my dudes, calm down) so if there are any typos, ill hammer them out at some point so go easy on me. more comfort this time because the last one was a little bleak lmao, but really, i love writing this fic uwu

He’s only blacked out for a minute or so before he snaps back to life. Presumably, the amount of carbon dioxide in his blood is enough for his brain now. It’s like in the movies when someone gets a shock because their heart stopped, but Steven isn’t sure it works like that in reality.

As his eyes begin to focus, he realizes Connie is above him. And, she’s crying. He hates to see her sad. It tears him up inside.

“Connie—”

She chokes out his name, and before he’s able to fully sit up, she throws her arms around him.

(He had tried not to hurt the Beaming Sunflower, but he’d done so anyway.)

His heart is still beating harder than normal, but his lungs are actually working. The panic has evened out. He’s left drained of everything he had before they had fused, and that wasn’t much to begin with. If his previous outburst hadn’t convinced her, the way his shoulders droop and his head goes into the palm of one hand signals to Connie that Something is Wrong.

“Steven, you’re not okay. We have to get the Gems.”

“No!” The word comes out too fast and too loud. It jars him, and it jars her, too. “I mean, no, I can walk back by myself.”

“Steven, you just blacked out!” She’s not crying anymore, but she still looks frightened. “I know you don’t want to bother anyone, but you said yourself that you’re sick. You’re pushing yourself too hard. Can’t you see that?”

Steven tenses. He has always known this about himself, but hearing someone else say it out loud to him is embarrassing. He feels childish.

(He feels ashamed.)

“I—Let’s just…walk home. We can talk to them when we get back.”

Connie’s expression hardens, but she agrees nonetheless.

The trek back is harder than he expected. The sand and hills and stairs are usually so easy, but by the time they’re opening the screen door, Steven is afraid that he might fall down again.

Pearl is alarmed by the defeated expressions on the kids’ faces, at the way Connie has an arm around Steven’s back to help support him, at the way Steven sways on his feet.

“Steven! Where have you been?” She rushes over and puts the back of her hand on his forehead. “Oh, dear, you’re burning up—we have to get you right to bed, and—”

“No, Pearl, listen,” he heaves out, still trying to catch his breath. “We need to talk.”

Connie chimes in, “To everyone, preferably.”

Worry is etched into every part of Pearl. "May I ask why?"

"We just have to. I don't know what else to do."

No one can move for a moment because they know everything is wrong.

"Alright."

* * *

They sit on the couch. Steven is laying down with his head in Connie’s lap, her hands placed softly in his hair. He’s not sleeping so much as resting. It’s hard to keep his eyes open, anyway.

Pearl is pacing back and forth, trying to control the urge to forcibly shove Steven up the stairs and into his room. Garnet is also on the couch, legs and arms crossed. Amethyst is looking in the fridge for something, but she’s still listening.

“So, you wanted to talk to us?”

Steven stays there on Connie’s lap. He doesn’t move.

“Yeah, uh..” Connie begins slowly. She’s nervous and doesn’t know what to say. “Steven isn’t feeling good. We tried to just take it easy, but we fused, and…” She falls silent, avoiding everyone’s line of sight. “Well, I think we had a nightmare.”

Steven cringes. He hopes it’s not visible, and he puts a hand over his face just to make sure.

(The image of Rose breaking out in maniacal laughter, her imposing presence, her shattered gem—_his _shattered gem—is enough to make him nauseous.)

“Was it similar to how Stevonnie was having trouble keeping fused during Pearl’s training that one time?” Garnet asks.

“Uh…yeah. Something like that.” Connie chews on her lip. “It’s just that this time, it felt real—sort of. It was a dream but also not. I can’t really explain it.”

He can’t think of better words either. Before the butterflies had appeared, they almost believed it was real life. Except that wasn’t possible because…

Steven begins to sit up, rubbing his eyes and fighting the wave of weakness that washes over him when finally upright. He takes a deep breath to center himself.

“It was a dream about Mom.”

They all freeze when he says this. Even Amethyst, who had been eating a sandwich, stops midchew, eyes wide enough to convince himself that this might be more of an issue than he had previously realized.

Pearl is trying very hard to act like she isn’t as shaken as she is. “Have you had dreams about her before?”

“Well, no, not really.”

“Wait—” Connie interjects, “—what about that time on the Jungle Moon? We had a dream about Pink and Yellow Diamond.”

“Oh, yeah.”

At that point, it hadn’t made sense. Why had they seen the pink lady in the mirror, her reflection shattered and fragmented after a slam of a fist? But, now, Steven has the context, and he really doesn’t like what it spells out to him. If this were still a dream, he would have coughed out another butterfly.

Pearl fusses with her hands, her anxiety clearly growing. “It worries me a bit, considering you have the ability to astral project into other people’s dreams. But, you have Rose’s gem, and technically, that would be just existing in your own dream…”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t like the one before because it was from our perspective and not hers.”

“What happened in this one?” Amethyst asks from across the room. She’s a little too enthusiastic about it.

Connie and Steven both look at each other. They don’t want to say it. The wound is too fresh, the butterflies too numerous. But, they have to for their own sanity.

“She was nice, just like everyone’s told me,” Steven begins. He can feel his heartbeat start to pound again. It makes his head throb. “But, it went wrong, and she seemed—bad.”

“Yeah, she was kind of scary,” Connie affirmed.

Garnet uncrosses her legs, leaning forward so her elbows rested on her knees. “If you were seeing this while fused, it could have been your anxiety regarding Rose manifesting in fusion space.”

Steven’s hands are resting on his legs, but when Garnet speaks, they ball into fists, nails digging into his palms. He thinks to himself that if they don’t stop talking about this particular topic, he’s going to throw up on the floor.

“Yeah, it’s just a mixed-up movie.” Amethyst twirls her finger in the air to signify a film reel. “Right, Pearl?”

Pearl ignores her. “It’s definitely a possibility,” she says to Garnet, thumb pressing to her lips in contemplation. 

Maybe Connie can feel Steven’s anxiety mounting, or maybe she can see how his shoulders are creeping higher, but she decides to move the conversation along.

“Anyway, when we woke up, both of us were freaked out, but Steven was really freaked out, and I think he might be really sick because—”

“Connie, stop. It’s not a big deal.”

“What, you don’t think hyperventilating until you faint is a big deal?” she fires back.

The air in the room grows thicker. They all sit there, unable to wade their words through the syrupy oxygen. Steven is looking down at his lap again, shame rising back up into his stomach. Maybe it’ll push out the butterflies inside him, and he’ll throw up pure white on the ground.

Garnet is the first one to break the silence.

“Steven, you would tell us if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t say anything.

“You can always come to one of us if you need help.”

Maybe she doesn’t mean to lie, but that’s a lie. When it comes to Rose, nobody wants to talk about her. Pearl’s feelings surrounding her are filed away deep within in a Pearl within a Pearl within a Pearl. Garnet is probably still hurt by Rose’s dishonesty. Amethyst doesn’t know her as well as the others. What is he supposed to ask them? “Was my mom a good person?” Yeah, that’d go over real well.

“Yeah, I know. But, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

Yes, Steven Universe is all so _okay_ and _fine_.

Connie winces but doesn’t argue.

There’s another silence, but this one isn’t as long because Pearl steps forward. Her voice is pleading. “Can we put you to bed now? I worry that the extra exertion will make your fever worse.”

Steven’s expression dims. He disappears back into himself.

“Yeah. I’m really tired.”

“Thank goodness,” she sighs.

* * *

Steven lays in bed, and he feels a pang of pain in his chest. It’s a familiar pain, one that says, "<strike>_Please say something, I need to say something, I need to get it out, I need relief, I need someone to help me, I need_/_I need_/_I need_</strike>."

But, he can’t. He can’t say anything because it’s so painful. It’s so, so painful. It’s so painful that he has to lock everything away inside him, stuff it all into an impenetrable box that only he can access, stash it far away in the recesses of his mind. If he lets even a whisper of truth escape, all his ghosts and demons will fly out, and Steven is positive that he will not be able to survive such an experience.

Hiding it clearly isn’t working either. He’s practically lost himself in the process of developing this convoluted protective mechanism. Maybe he had accidentally locked his personality in with all of the bad parts of him. That means that it is trapped there indefinitely, and until he’s ready to completely fall apart, he will be a hollow shell of who he once was.

(The idea is not as upsetting as it probably should be.)

He shivers, teeth chattering, trying to find some way to burrow deeper into the bed, but he settles for pulling his comforter up to his ears. His fever _has_ gotten worse, just as Pearl feared. 102.7 degrees. Maybe having a panic attack while already compromised hadn’t been the best decision, after all. Not like it’s actually a decision. The panic acts on him, and it feels completely out of his control, even though his emotions should be somewhat in his control, theoretically. He was never anxious growing up, but he’s riddled with it now. He vacillates between being nothing and being everything, but he’s never just in the middle. He’s never just “normal.”

His chill is replaced with fire, and he has to throw the blankets off him because he swears he’s burning alive. Instead of shivering, he’s sweating, and no matter how he splays out on the bed, he can’t find a spot cool enough to bring relief. However, the good news is, when he’s distracted by his physical distress, he doesn’t have the brainpower to focus on his mental distress. This freedom is nice even though it’s laced with pain.

(But, maybe in a way, he believes he deserves this. Maybe he believes he deserves pain. Maybe suffering is the only way he can feel relief from his guilt and shame. He can use his suffering as repentance for all the suffering he’s ever caused, for all the suffering she’s ever caused.)

Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose.

Everywhere he turns, Rose is looming over him. Her shadow is cast over every person he knows. He is her shadow. He must be held accountable for every unsavory action, every unsavory result.

(He deserves to suffer like she should have<strike>.</strike>)

He wants to cry, but he can’t. He can’t. He can only cry when strangled by panic, and it is so frustrating to be stuck in this emotional purgatory that he wants to scream, but his throat is already sore from screaming, so he decides against it.

He stares at the ceiling. His vision starts swimming because he refuses to blink. He’s already bored, but not blinking and feeling his eyes dry out gives him comfort.

Yeah, he’s most definitely fine. Not fucked up at all.

Steven Universe is _fine_ and most definitely _okay_.

* * *

It’s the film reel again. Playing right on cue.

_“I’m sorry, Spinel. I’m really sorry that Mom left you.”_

_“You can’t take away my pain with an _apology!_ You deserve to suffer like I have!” Spinel looks at him from behind her scythe, eyes practically glowing with hatred until she fades into the background_.

_“No.”_

_Spinel turns back._

_“No?” She’s angry. He’s broken the script._

_“No, I’m not going to let this happen again. I can’t have this dream again. I won’t.”_

_“Heh, what are you…talking about?” Spinel no longer looks menacing. Sure, she has black lines running from her eyes, but she’s just confused and exasperated. Her scythe retracts, and she presses the remaining bar to her hip._

_“I can’t be tormented by you anymore. I can’t take it.”_

_“Okay…? You're not my only friend now, so I'm not sure if I care.”_

_He reaches out, but she’s gone before he can make contact with her. There’s nothing but darkness._

_Then, there’s a flash of orange._

_“I’m sorry, Jasper. I’m really sorry you’re corrupted because you were so upset and lonely.”_

_“Pink Diamond was my diamond—_my diamond_—and Rose killed her, Rose killed—herself?” Jasper glitches. What he knows and what she knows aren’t compatible anymore, so she yells out in pain and transforms into that monster—_

_“No! I don’t care about how confusing it is for you. It’s confusing for me, too! Why do you get to act out, and I don’t?_”

_Jasper glitches again, but instead of corrupting, she goes back to normal._

_“What?” She’s angry. He’s broken the script._

_“I have to deal with the fact that my mom is a diamond who started a war just because she wanted to! She made up her whole identity as Rose Quartz, and I’m just supposed to feel like it’s okay? How does any of that make sense?”_

_“I, uh, don’t actually know what you’re talking about.”_

_Steven rubs his eyes, and Jasper is gone. _

_However, Lapis is now next to him, and she breaks the script first._

_“God, she’s so annoying sometimes.”_

_Steven can’t help but recite his line._

_“I’m sorry, Lapis. I’m so sorry that my mom started a war that you got caught up in and that you were trapped in the mirror and the ocean and on Earth—”_

_“Steven, this is getting really boring. I’m not mad at you. Please stop apologizing.”_

_“But, I—”_

_“I get that you’re upset, but I’m really not mad about it. You don’t have to beat yourself up anymore.”_

_“But, I—I hate myself for what I've done to you.”_

_“Oh, well. Don’t we all hate ourselves for things we’ve done to other people—?”_

Boom!

_There is a sudden shift in the dream space, and Lapis tenses. Steven has dread making up his physical form. _

_“What’s happening?” she whispers._

_“I don’t know.” He hugs his shoulders to keep himself from ripping apart. Lapis notices and wraps her arms around his shoulders. But, then, she_ _ gasps, horror on her face. Steven whips around and—_

It’s her.

_“Yes, Steven. We all have to suffer. You’re right.” She sighs. “Am I bad because I knew how this would all work out? Am I bad because I needed something I could never possess?”_

_Steven and Lapis look at each other. They have no idea what’s going on._

_“I never wanted this to happen.”_

_“What are you talking about, Mom?”_

_She looks behind her, but it is too late, and a flash of three colors destroys them all._

* * *

Steven doesn’t even know he’s screaming until he’s been screaming for too long.

(_No, no, no, no, I can’t take this, I can’t take this, I can’t take this. Not again. I really can't take this._)

He shoots out of bed and runs down the stairs to the bathroom, the door slamming behind him. He turns on the faucet and splashes water on his face. His fever thanks him, but the rest of his body is clammy and sticky, and he wishes he could crawl out of his skin.

(_What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck._)

What the fuck. 

He doesn’t want to think about it, so he doesn’t.

(_Don't think. Don't think. Don't think._)

There’s a second where reality is a blur, where reality is only a burst of static, and it hurts. He presses his fingers against his scalp, but miraculously, his headache goes away.

Now, he’s staring at his reflection. He doesn’t especially want to because he has no idea how to make sense of it, lately. He doesn’t recognize himself, and when he does, he feels disgusted. He’ll look away and turn back, and he won’t recognize himself again.

Dr. Maheswaran’s textbooks talk about “_body dysmorphia_,” and even when he knows he doesn’t meet the criteria for it, he relates to the idea of finding all the flaws in his body. He doesn’t understand how it’s supposed to work. He doesn’t understand what he’s supposed to look like at any given time. And, shape-shifting? Age-shifting? Astro-projecting? Fusion?

He’s been so many people and so many things that his sense of self is very loosely attached to his body. It fluctuates back and forth between being solid in his skin and not being in his body at all. And, the disgust? Well—

(It’s probably just because he hates himself.)

Steven sighs. He isn’t going to get anywhere demeaning himself in the bathroom, even though there’s a strange comfort in it. He turns away from the mirror and reaches for the doorknob, but unfortunately, when he opens the door, Pearl is right there in front of him.

“Uh—”

“Steven! Are you alright?”

He's still really mixed up, but it's easy enough to spit out his favorite lie.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You were screaming, and I-I panicked, I—”

Her eyes are so worried that Steven feels guilty for lying, but if he’s truthful, everyone will leave him. They will. He knows they will.

(Steven may lie, but they lie more. They don't tell the truth when it comes to anything related to him. It’s natural that he has developed the reflex to deflect and pretend like nothing bad has ever happened to him.)

“Yeah, sorry.” He shoves past her, climbing up the stairs and flopping on the bed.

Unfortunately, she follows.

“You don’t have to apologize. I just want to give you support. I want to give you my aid, if I can.”

Her tone is soft and pleading, but all Steven hears is—(_You are Weak/You are The Worst/You Are _**_THE WORST_**).

He can't stop the burning of his eyes. He can't stop the anxiety that's caused by his shame. He feels like his emotions are out of his control again. He wishes he could disappear forever, but instead, Pearl is staring at him with sorrow in her eyes. 

Now he’s folded in on himself, and he’s crying again. Why can’t he ever cry when he wants to but cries when it makes him look like **THE WORST**.

He’s crying into the comforter, and he can hear Pearl’s panicked voice, and he can feel her sit down on the bed, but he can’t stop crying.

“Steven.”

Steven turns his red eyes up at her and breathes in, but it’s a stuttering sniff. He feels gross. He doesn’t want Pearl to look at him like this. She’s seen him in much worse states, but for some reason, this feels so vulnerable, so…wrong.

“I know what it feels like to keep everything inside.”

He shakes his head, curly hair rustling on the linen. “It’s not like that.”

“Even if it’s not, it wouldn’t hurt to listen, would it?” Pearl lays down next to him so they can make eye contact. Her smile is small and patient. She knows exactly why he’s putting up a fight because she’s been through it, and she knows what it feels like to be in a place where you can’t accept yourself.

“Sometimes things happen that you don’t understand or can’t process at the time. You internalize events and let them describe you, and you internalize what other people think of you and let it turn into what you think of yourself. I’m not here to lecture you, and I’m not here to tell you that you’re wrong for feeling the way you do. But, if you don’t let others in, you can end up lashing out.

“I...still feel guilty for what I did to Garnet all that time ago. I’ve tried to forgive myself, and I have to a certain extent, but it’s an example of what can happen when you’re hurt and you don’t think you deserve the things you need. If you neglect yourself for a long time, everything falls apart. You remember how it used to be, right?”

Pearl and Steven stare at each other, and she smiles. At first, Steven stays blank, trying to process what Pearl is saying, and when it finally clicks, he laughs.

“Yeah, you were kind of a mess.”

Pearl laughs, too, and she laughs genuinely because she’s not ashamed of that part of herself anymore. She’s accepted that it was something that happened because of circumstances outside her control, and she’s done what she can to make it up to everyone she has hurt. Instead of hiding it deep inside, she’s thought about it. Instead of stuffing it down, she has brought it front and center, but only after horrible turmoil and heartbreak.

(Healing is hard, but ultimately, it’s probably worth it, Pearl had decided.)

When they finally stop giggling, they both sit up, and she puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I love you, Steven. We all do.”

“I love you, too, Pearl.”

Her embrace feels cold against his feverish skin, but he feels one of his butterflies flutter away, and one ounce of the weight on his shoulders lift.


	4. Avoidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avoidance can only work for so long. Something gives way. Something snaps. Something has to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bros im sorry this chapter took so long and is kinda short? i basically wrote this in two days but nanowrimo always freaks me out and keeps me from writing (ironically enough), so yeah. i dont usually write multichapters where the chapters are so short, but that's kinda the flow im feeling for this one, idk. hopefully, this chapter will get the plot moving along (i say, knowing full well im flying by the seat of my pants lmao)

Steven has started twitching. His fever has gone down only slightly, (102.0) but the lessening of the heat inside him leaves space for tremors to settle in. It’s not like it hurts, but it’s not like it’s pleasant either. Sometimes his skin crawls, and sometimes he just feels _wrong_.

He’s been feeling wrong a lot lately.

(Something has changed about his mental state. His bodily disconnect also comes with mental disconnect. He dissociates. He doesn’t remember long chunks of time. He can barely keep his head on his shoulders.)

But, it’s probably fine, right? Yeah, it’s totally fine.

He’s laying in bed, and suddenly Amethyst is there—(_Hey, Ste-man! Wanna watch some Lonely Blade?_) But, he can barely get his eyes to focus, and Amethyst’s attempts to comfort him fall on deaf ears.

(_I know you’ve been having a hard time, but we love you so much, Steven. Like, things suck and life _sucks_, but you’re so strong and nice and funny and—cool! I love hanging out with you, and I love making fun snacks and eating them with you, and I love the TV shows and video games you show me. We all want what’s best for you, but we don’t know what that is unless you tell us._)

Her monologue drifts in and out. Maybe he internalizes some of it, but that’s being generous. He feels like he might be hallucinating the whole thing, and maybe he is.

Garnet appears, too, says nice things like—(_Are you interested in visiting Funland? Amethyst has said she’s wanted to, and it might be a nice change of pace…_)—but when he doesn’t respond, Garnet doesn’t know how to remedy it because she’s chosen the best course of action in her mind’s eye and even that didn’t work.

Pearl doesn’t know what else to say after the last breakdown because she’s already opened up to him, and he has not reciprocated the sentiment. It’s not like he doesn’t want to. He’s just afraid.

(<strike>Afraid of everything.</strike>)

When the Gems finally leave him alone, he shoves his face into his pillow and considers suffocating himself, but that’s not a great way to go, and he’s too tired to do something that requires so much effort.

He falls asleep, and thankfully he doesn’t dream.

* * *

The next time he wakes up, the house is eerily silent. 

Usually, there are the creaks of Pearl lightly walking across the wooden panels, or there’s the loud bombastic chatter of Amethyst, or there are Garnet’s footsteps because she’s massive and the sound of her walking is much louder than the rest of them. But, there’s nothing now. The complete stillness around him should be calming, but it’s maddening. 

Steven twitches a few times, his hair rustling on the pillow he’s laying on, and he feels like he’s going crazy, but that’s only because he hates that he can’t control these fits, and he feels even more hopeless on top of the hopelessness that generally comes with depression.

In an attempt to lift his mood, he gets out of his pajamas and slips on jeans and a black version of his shirt. The yellow star is almost as bright as Connie’s new dress, but not quite.  It decidedly does not lift his mood.

He walks down the stairs to use the bathroom and brush his teeth. 

(He absently wonders when the last time he showered was. He can’t remember. Days have blurred into each other, all sense of time lost.)

He looks at his reflection in the mirror after he’s done putting toothpaste on his toothbrush and notices how messy his hair is, how greasy it is. He looks _bad_, and it’s kind of frightening because he’s used to a certain quality of hygiene, but this is…

Basically, no one would call this behavior normal. Even his addled mind knows that much. 

He spits and rinses his mouth. The tiny bit of blood that follows is from a similar type of neglect as his hair. He is only brushing his teeth when he feels like he can, which isn’t enough, apparently. It isn't like he doesn't want to, but every task feels laborious no matter how easy, mundane, or complex. It might look like laziness to an outside observer, but he isn’t even able to do _fun_ things either. Whatever sparks the engine in his mind to turn over had died out somewhere along the way, and so every part of the human experience can insight anxiety or dread.

It is so disgusting to him that deterioration of this extent can occur just because he's _sad_. God, it seems so stupid. How does (_I’m a bad person_) manifest this way? Why is taking care of himself so hard when he’s feeling so low? He wants answers, but not the medical kind—(executive dysfunction occurs in depression due to inadequate levels of serotonin, dopamine, and other neurotransmitters)—he wants to know _why_, why is this happening to him? What has he done to land himself in this miserable purgatory?

“Ugh,” he groans, his palm going to his forehead, the other arm wrapping around his stomach. The heat from his forehead and the chill of his hands tells him he’s still sick, and then, he twitches, and he has to wonder if it’s psychosomatic—(a term he’d found from one of Dr. Maheshwaren’s textbooks, which basically means that his mental anguish is causing him to have physical symptoms).

In retrospect, maybe this whole thing is psychosomatic. Something is obviously wrong with his mind, and he knows that his powers are often linked with his mental state…

Oh, God, that’s so horrifying to think about. His depression is taking him over, and so, he probably is going to be messed up because of that, and Oh God.

He could hurt someone, or he could be taken over by his Cat Fingers, or he could jump, expecting to float, only to smash into the ground. If he can’t use his powers correctly, how is he going to continue being a Crystal Gem? What if this whole thing is permanent, and he’ll never happy again? He’ll never be able to protect anyone ever again.

The whole internal diatribe is maddening. He wants time to stop, his thoughts to stop, reality to stop. If only it were that simple.

He has been staring at the mirror dissociating into his reflection for far too long. It takes effort to pull his vision back into focus. It’s one of those times where he can’t tell what he looks like, so he rubs his eyes, but instead of being recognizable, Steven feels like his reflection is “The Real Steven” staring at him. Maybe he’s trapped in an alternate dimension, a mirror world, where everything is backward, including him.

With a deep breath and measured exhale, he finally composes himself. 

It’s fine. It’s fine. He’s fine. He can’t let this bother him. He can’t let another thing bring him down. He needs to keep pushing forward, to not dwell on the present or past, and to fixate on the Future. It’s worked for him thus far, so he has to rely on it. It's the only thing he has. He doesn’t know what else to do.

Unfortunately, avoidance can only work for so long. At some point, the human mind decides enough is enough.

Something gives way. Something snaps. 

Something has to change.

He turns to leave the bathroom, but then, he steals a glance at his reflection one more time, and—

(<strike>he’spink</strike>)

(Diamond Eyes. Pink Hair. He’s beautiful, but it makes him feel _disgusting_.)

He yells, but when he looks back, he’s not pink anymore. Before anything else can happen, he rushes out of the bathroom and rushes out the door and sits down on the beach in front of the water. He pulls his knees up to his chest, wraps his arms around his legs, and buries his face in them.

(_Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think._)

Not thinking isn’t working anymore. Even when he doesn’t think, anxiety slams his heart into his ribs and causes his dread to heighten into melancholic panic. It’s the only state where he becomes impulsive, where he thinks that life is better off without him, where he thinks that he’s better off not trapped in this reality.

(He doesn’t have _plans_ per se, but why even formulate one when your life is as precarious as something smashing your belly button?)

But, _no_, he can’t do anything like that. No, no, no, _no_—

He can’t hurt the people he loves. But, he hurts the people around him by living. How is he supposed to rectify that? How is he supposed to not feel horrible when his continued existence is what makes everyone _so miserable?_

(The fact that Rose cannot exist while he is alive makes him responsible for all the suffering around him. This fact is one he cannot run from, as much as he’d like to.)

The thought makes him twitch a couple of times.

He settles for something more simple. It’s not hard enough to break the skin, but he presses his nails into his legs, and the subsequent pain doesn’t help, but it does…in some way.

The _blame_ turns into a yearning for punishment. His shame is so deep that he wants to leave marks so other people can see how much he doesn’t like himself, but at the same time, he doesn't want anyone to see him in this state because it’s weak and base, and people will worry about him, and it’s the last thing he wants. He doesn’t want to make a scene, but his skin is crawling and his brain is revolting, and it makes him want to do _something_. He needs to do something. He can’t live like this.

Everything is building inside him. He wants/wants/wants to get everything off his chest, but he can’t/can’t/can’t. He can’t do it, he can’t do it, he can’t allow himself to do it, he can’t burden them, he can’t show weakness, he can’t upset them, he can’t break open like that, he can’t center himself, he can't be selfish, he can’t do it, he can’t do it, _he can’t do it._

He’s riled himself up enough that his head is pounding now. The horrible headache he had in the bathroom a few days ago comes back with a vengeance. He lets go of his knees and presses the heels of his hands to his forehead, hoping that it’ll go away again, but it doesn’t. It hurts so bad, but this isn’t the type of punishment he yearns for. This is uncontrollable, his body acting on him rather than the other way around.

It gets worse instead of better. It’s blistering. It feels like his brain is trying to escape by squeezing through his skull and eye sockets, like he's being ripped open from the inside. It’s some of the worst pain he’s ever felt. It brings tears to his eyes. He can’t help but groan loudly, grit his teeth, curl his fingers, press harder against the ache. But, it doesn’t help. Nothing helps. Nothing he does can help him, just like he’s convinced himself about everything else.

Even his fever feels like it's rising, too. He’s suddenly burning up, but intolerably so. It’s too much, everything is too much. Too much pain, too much heat, too much, too much, _too much, **too much**_—

Steven doesn’t remember what happens next.

* * *

He finds himself laying on the sand, similar to how Stevonnie had been that one time, but instead of waking up in a frenzied panic, he wakes up disorientated. He doesn’t know what exactly happened. Did he blackout? Did he just fall asleep? Whatever the reason, he’s blinking through a thick fog. His breathing sounds tinny in his ears, as if his head has been stuffed in a fishbowl, and it’s reverberating against the glass.

Along with the confusion, there’s also a weakness that bears down on his body, making him feel like he can’t move against it. Steven thinks that maybe he’s lost the battle with his fever, and he’s succumbed to complete catatonia. The thought further immobilizes him, and he drifts back into dark nothingness.

* * *

The next thing he realizes, he’s being carried like a baby. The movement of the person running jostles him awake. He’s confused again.

It slowly dawns on him that it’s Garnet that’s carrying him, and the jostling is due to her running up the stairs. She’s so fast that it’s jarring to find himself on the couch, the large gem looming over him. She’s talking, but he can’t hear her. Clearly, something’s messed up. He hasn’t felt this weak since he was hit with Spinel’s Rejuvinator and forced to overextend himself to save the gems, the town, the world.

(And, of course, the last person he thought to save was himself.)

The thought snaps him out of his stupor, and he shoots up to a sitting position. When his head snaps to the side, it finally registers that Garnet has her visor off. She looks…upset? Steven can’t figure out why. He can’t remember a large portion of the day, considering it’s dark outside, and he’s pretty sure he left the house when it was still light out. That’s probably not good.

“—Steven, are you alright?”

“Huh?” he murmurs before the words click into place. “Oh, yeah. I think so. Why?”

Garnet sits down next to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. Now that he’s closer to her eye-level, he can tell that ‘upset’ doesn’t fully cover it. She looks to be masking _despair_, but knowing how even-keeled Garnet normally is makes it worse because if she’s being expressive, she must be very distressed.

“You were lying on the beach. You wouldn’t wake up. I got scared.” Her hand ghosts over her eyes, and her visor reappears with a flash of light. “I couldn’t see any possibilities in my Future Vision. I didn’t know what had happened.”

Her words are hard to concentrate on. He feels like they are going in one ear and out the other, as if he could unfocus his ears like he could unfocus his eyes.

“Oh…”

“And, you…I—”

She stumbles over her words, which is extremely strange for Garnet. She’s usually precise with her language, but the sentence she’s trying to say is tangled up in her mouth. She put her visor back on to hide the extent of her distress, Steven guesses. It’s hard not to come to that conclusion when she’s so obviously panicked.

“I don’t know what to say,” she finally gets out. She turns away, another rare sight from the gem. “Can you check the bathroom?”

Steven’s eyebrows furrow. Her request barely makes sense.

“What? Why?”

Garnet does not respond and does not make eye contact.

Everything about her behavior is disturbing. He feels mixed up in his chest. He is overwhelmed with dread as he stands up and walks hesitantly towards the bathroom. He steps through the threshold, frozen by the intense apprehension that has only magnified in the last few moments.

(A part of him distinctly knows that whatever happens next is going to change his life forever. He doesn’t know why he knows that, but he does, and it keeps him from walking forward.)

It takes a minute or so before he convinces himself to approach the sink, but eventually, he manages.

A gasp leaves his mouth before he even knows what he’s looking at. He feels like he _can’t_ understand what he’s looking at, that its a symptom of dysmorphia, that it’s a hallucination, that it’s a dream, that it’s anything/anything/anything else than real life.

But, he has to acknowledge the truth. He cannot avoid the reality of his life, the physical manifestation of a pain condensed into such a small pinpoint that it exploded outward. Avoidance can only work for so long. He has to face himself. This is so horrifying to him that he has to slog through his own thoughts to make sense of the image in front of him.

(_Diamonds._)

It’s worse than that.

(_My pupils are diamonds._)

And?

(_I have—_)

Yes?

(_I have horns._)

The sound that leaves his mouth tears up his throat, and he thinks with utter despair that it sounds inhuman and animalistic.  
  



	5. Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She should have been crying for him.
> 
> or
> 
> Steven struggles with The Hedgehog's Dilemma, quite literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im pretty sure steven universe is just one giant evangelion reference

Only the Gems know. He’s told them not to tell Connie or his father even though they protested the request. However, they relent because this situation is highly disturbing, and maybe telling humans about it wouldn’t be the best course of action, considering even they have no idea what is happening or any idea how to proceed.

The worst part is that Steven can’t imagine being able to say anything about it out loud—not to Connie, not to his dad, not to anyone. The only reason the Gems know is because they can see it.

Horror still fills up his whole body when he remembers seeing it the first time, blood caked on his hair and his eyes misshapen. He’s had dreams like this, he’s had moments of dissociation like this, but this time, it’s undeniably real.

(He remembers the panic that forced him into the shower, to kneel in the tub, scrubbing his hair as hard as he could. Not only did blood mingle with the shampoo froth, but his scalp hurt so badly and was so tender around the protrusions. In retrospect, the intensity of his headache made some sense considering something had literally pierced through his scalp, but it didn’t make him feel better. As hard as he scrubbed his hair, his horns never went away. )

Everyone knows it’s not normal, but they don’t know what to do about it.

“It’s obviously corruption,” Pearl squawks. She can’t help it. She’s just as scared as they all are, and the cracking of her voice is just something that happens when she’s overly emotional.

“It’s not corruption. It can’t be,” she says through a clenched jaw. 

“But, Garnet. When else have we seen gems grow horns? There’s no other explanation—”

Garnet slams her fist on the kitchen counter, trying her best to maintain a stoic expression, but ultimately, her spontaneous aggression gives away that she is very much not okay.

“It’s not corruption.” Her voice is slow and metered.

Amethyst jumps in. “What if this is just how Steven is meant to grow up? Maybe, he’s always meant to have horns. I dunno.” She shrugs. She’s clearly not happy either, but nonchalance is easier for her in times of panic, unlike the other two.

“And, his diamond eyes?”

“Well, if Pink had ‘em, what’s stopping Steven from having ‘em?”

“Steven _isn’t Pink_,” Garnet says.

“As much as I’d like to agree,” Pearl’s fingers lace together in contemplation, “the simple fact of the matter is that he technically is, even if he’s no longer residing in her form…”

Garnet is obviously not over the whole Pink/Rose thing because she lets out an unnecessary breath and says, “Steven is not Rose. Steven is not Pink Diamond.”

No one in the room believes her, including Garnet herself.

Steven watches this all happen as he’s huddled in a blanket on the couch. If he had felt numb before, he’s beyond numb now. He stares at the Gems blankly because it’s too much to process, and he’s not sure he can allow his mind to catch up.

After all, he can’t say he hadn’t expected this to happen.

(_This is exactly why I didn’t say anything, this is exactly why I should shut up, this is exactly why I should be quiet, this is exactly why I shouldn’t exist, this is exactly why Rose should be here and not me, this is exactly why I’m wrong and bad and deserve to suffer._)

He doesn’t offer any outward commentary.

“Oh, I know!” Pearl says much too excitedly. “Let’s take him to Rose’s Fountain, that might work!”

In the back of everyone’s mind, they know it’s not going to work. If it is corruption, Rose’s fountain can’t fix it without the help of the Diamonds. Although, Steven is a diamond…

“Has he tried using his own spit first?”

Three sets of eyes (and Sapphire’s one) turn to him. He has to pull himself out of his protective dissociation.

“I’ve tried.” Steven’s voice is gravel, and he’s not sure it’s ever going to recover after that noise he let out in the bathroom. “It doesn’t make it go away.”

Pearl stands up from her place sitting at the table. “Rose’s Fountain it is then!” She’s gone into her pseudo-cheerful panicked state, marching over and taking Steven under her arm. Before anyone can agree with her, Pearl runs up the stairs and into Steven’s room and subsequently lets herself into the warp dome, the others following quickly behind.

She positions herself on the platform, a smile aimed at nothing because she clearly can’t process the situation. But, to be fair, none of them can.

Garnet and Amethyst share a wary glance but stay silent.

* * *

There’s a flash of light, and then they’re standing in the courtyard. Steven is surprised at how tightly Pearl grips him against her thin frame.

The Gems are running now, and he’s taking the brunt of being tucked under Pearl’s arm, his head bouncing with each bounding step. For some reason, his mind goes back to when Amethyst cracked her gem, and so he thinks it’s going to be a long trek. However, without all the nasty vines that lowkey wanted to kill him, they’re at the center of the courtyard within thirty seconds or so.

Her statue throws him back many years.

(_Why can’t I cry?_)

Looking at her solemn expression carved in the many stone visages, he remembers not being able to cry because of his inherent emotional disconnect with his long-gone mother. It’s slightly ironic that his inability to emote is nostalgic.

It’s kinda messed up, but it’s true.

Pearl places him in the fountain.

He lays in the water, and it’s nice, it really is. There’s peace and calm around him. There’s the idea of repentance, the idea of infinite forgiveness. It smells like her, like flowers and sea spray and the boardwalk. It feels like everything he’s ever wanted. It’s almost enough for his mind to spark something—happiness, healing, self-worth—but…

It’s not.

How can it be? He’s laying in the tears that she should have been crying for him. 

He stares upward and looks at the statue that the liquid comes out of. She’s standing, head bowed, palms facing up. She really looks like the martyr she’s painted herself to be, but…

It’s not true. She’s not actually a war hero. She’s hurt Pearl, Garnet, Amethyst, his dad, Spinel, the Diamonds, the entire Gem Race. She’s done unspeakable things for no good reason, or even worse—_for fun_. She’s led everyone to believe she’s perfect. But, she’s not perfect. She’s a coward. She’s…

She’s hurt him.

He doesn’t like to think about it because it feels so selfish, but a lot of the reason he feels bad is because of her. He wants to pin it all on himself, and he does for the most part, but he can’t help but think about her actions when faced with her image.

She’s stolen his childhood, stolen a part of his teenagerdom. She didn’t _directly _do it, but at the same time, she did.

There were a million ways she could have made amends, and there were a million ways that she could have acted differently in order for him to not have suffered the way he has.  But, she didn’t do that. Instead, she left. She left him behind. And, now, he’s so lost and alone that he doesn’t know anything about himself anymore. His grief and shame and other people’s grief and shame have encompassed his entire personality and encompassed his entire life. Regardless of her intentions, she has caused him to suffer so, so much. Not only that, but she’s caused all of the people around him to suffer because he’s him and not her.

He twitches. The water splashes because his hand unceremoniously slaps the water against his will. That’s not what he should be doing. He should be getting better. But, the truth is, he can’t let himself.

If he lets himself get better, then it will cause everything to go back to normal. No one will ever wonder if he feels terrible, and he’ll have to face the same silent solitude all over again.

(Because, as much as he doesn’t want to be seen as a bad kid who’s selfish and wants to be the center of attention, he’s so hurt. He’s so, so hurt. Emotional neglect plagues his insides, even when he swears he can’t possibly have been neglected. But, he feels so horrible. He feels so, so horrible. He can’t let himself get physically better now because it will only drive him to the background. It will leave him lifting everyone else’s burdens all over again, and he really, really cannot take that anymore. If he doesn't let out his worst instincts, he’ll never be able to be himself again.)

Every part of himself wants to scream—**_NO!_**—but all those same parts know that he has to, he has to, he has to.

He has to let himself go because his ironclad grip on his misery will only destroy him faster. That _something_ he’d wanted on the beach before was something so simple. He just wanted compassion and nurture and _love_, but many years ago, he’d convinced himself that he only deserved love if he helped other people.

So, now, he feels undeserving of the basic needs of humanity, which is unconditional acceptance and affection.

It’s painful, then, to be in Rose’s pool of tears. It hurts, much like his horns emerging had. He wants love, but he can’t have it, and he wants acceptance, but he can’t have it, and he wants to feel _good_, to feel like he can live without the weight of the universe on his back, but…unfortunately, he’s been named Steven Universe, and that’s a little tricky, isn’t it?

He lets out a pained noise, unable to yell because he has an audience, and that’s embarrassing.

He reaches upward towards the sky in a last-ditch effort to get someone, _anyone_ to help him, but there’s nothing, and he’s left crying into the pool of his mother’s tears. All the ones that she wept over her soldiers and other gems but couldn’t live long enough to cry for him.

The fountain does not help, but thankfully, it does not make anything worse.

Well, probably, anyway.

* * *

He wears a hat and sunglasses to go outside now. 

The black beanie goes well with his Black Star Shirt. His sunglasses make him look cool and nonchalant even though he’s the complete opposite of that. A perk, he decides. Things could be worse, and he knows they will be. But, he’s going to pretend like this is a perk and not just a way to cover up this whole…_thing._

_It’s fine_, he thinks, knowing that the entire idea of it all being “okay and fine” is what’s driving this.

He’s been feeling sort of giddy lately. The way his mental state, and subsequently his life, has begun to spiral out of control has made it easier to fake everything because it’s all so ridiculous. It’s like when he’s at a sleepover at Connie’s, and it’s three in the morning, and they’re practically delirious because of the lack of sleep, and they tell each other really stupid jokes and giggle quietly until Dr. Maheshwaren comes out to tell them to be quiet.

It’s definitely not as fun because his sanity is falling through the cracks between his fingers, but at least he’s feeling something resembling happiness, right? That can’t be that bad, right? Everything will turn out fine, right? Right? Right?

Right?

(He knows he needs to stop.  But, he feels like he can’t stop. He can’t stop. What is there to do? There’s nothing to do. He’s…trapped. He’s trapped here on Earth, in this body with this mind, with the responsibility that no child should have to bear. Breaking completely apart is not allowed, so he can’t stop.)

Which is why it is _okay_ and _fine_.

Yeah, it’s all…it’s all fine.

He just needs to keep going.

* * *

“Hey, Stu-ball, what’s with the getup?”

Oh, yeah, right. The hat and glasses are new. They’re not ingrained in him like the illusion of contentment is. And, really, that’s not so solid in his skin anymore after…well, you know.

He fakes happiness. “Did you know that 10% of body heat leaves through the head?”

Greg falters.

“Er, sure, but it’s, like, eighty degrees.”

His hands frame his shades confidently, “Hence the sunglasses.”

“Right, well…” He sits on the back bumper of his van, the doors wide open and exposing his mountain of clothes. “I’ve just been a little worried, kiddo. You haven't responded to any of my calls.”

Oh, yeah, right. He had done that, hadn’t he? It wasn’t like he was actively meaning to, it was just that his phone died, and he forgot to charge it because—y’know—if you put your dead phone in your side table drawer to ignore the people trying to get into contact with you, your phone doesn’t charge.

“Heh, yeah, sorry about that. I’ve been kind of busy lately,” he lies.

The truth is, the only reason he is even talking to his dad is because he ran into him on his walk to prevent another bout of cabin fever. He would have rather kept hiding from him, but he didn't need to descend into madness any faster than he was already. 

However, Greg accepts this lie easily. He has the weakness of taking everyone at face value, which is a shame because that was probably why he bought Rose’s persona unquestioningly. Of course, they all did, but Greg fell particularly hard.

“I get it, but I talked to Connie the other day, and she said you were a little down.”

_Ugh_, he groans internally. Of course Connie would say something to him. That’s just the kind of person she is. All of the features that make her a good friend are annoying when he’s trying to keep a low profile.

“Nothing too serious,” he lies again. “I've had a fever for a while, and it’s made me sort of wonky. It’s nothing Pearl’s chicken noodle can’t fix.”

“Oh, yeah, totally. I just wanted to check-in.”

He’s too passive for the part of Steven that (needs/needs/needs to say something), that (wants/wants/wants attention). As much as his ego wants Greg to buy his lies, his id desperately needs to be listened to. All of his moralism cannot sequester his basic emotional needs, and the words come out before he can even process what he’s saying.

“Can I…get a hug, Dad?”

The look in his father’s eyes turns solemn, sympathetic, but overall affectionate.

“Of course, Steven. I always want a hug from you.”

He’s taken in by large and welcoming arms, arms that feel like the promise of happiness and unconditional love. The embrace is warm and tight and harkens back to simpler times. He wants to close his eyes and sleep forever in the arms of a loved one. He wishes to never be judged again, to never have to move again, to never be responsible again. He wants to be a child, swaddled in a blanket, pressed tight to a chest with a heartbeat that thumps for him.

How could he be neglected if he has such a caring father—and three caring mothers on top of that? It doesn’t make sense.

Nevertheless, the moment is magically comforting for Steven. Being close to another person has lifted one butterfly off his shoulders. But, just one. The rest rustle angrily among his organs.

“Ouch—”

Their display of affection is interrupted by a collective gasp, a collective feeling of pain. They pull away from each other suddenly, and he’s being stared at with confusion.

“Steven," Greg asks, rubbing at his cheek, "why did your head poke me?”

“Uh…”

And, he immediately acquires another butterfly. His inner diatribe takes the voice of Greg Universe: (_You fucked up, kiddo._)

His head hurts, too. Greg managed to jam into his horn when trying to lie his head on his hair, but just like everything else about the boy, the closer people got, the more likely he was to hurt them.

“It’s nothing,” he smiles widely and shrugs comically, hoping Greg will drop it.

No such luck.

“Are you…hiding something under your hat?”

“Nahhh,” he waves him off.

(Steven is very thankful he is wearing sunglasses because his eyes are wide with panic.)

“I know I say that I don’t want to know about gem stuff, but I do want to know if something’s wrong, even if it's weird and has to do with space.”

Steven clenches his fists. “Please, Dad,” he pleads, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, but I’m always here to listen.”

The pain in Greg’s eyes is so genuine that it’s heart-wrenching. He really means it. He loves his son so much, and yet, every word out of Steven’s mouth is a lie. It’s truly despicable. He feels terrible. He’s a hypocrite for wanting unconditional love and acceptance when he can’t afford it to those closest to him. It's just so hard because those closest to him are the ones that would hurt him the most if they left. 

Push away, pull back. They love him, they love him not. Yes, no, maybe so.

The weight of his shame is so intense that the one extra butterfly is almost enough to break him down into a hundred thousand pieces.

(He can’t do this anymore.)

Steven bursts into tears, tearing off both his sunglasses and his hat, letting them clatter on the concrete. He doesn’t look at Greg, doesn’t say anything. His horns speak for themselves. He hides his diamond eyes in his hands because it’s too hard to reveal both at the same time.

“Holy shirt, you’ve got horns!”

He says it like Steven doesn’t already know. Slowly, he takes his hands away from his face and looks up, equally ashamed of his tears and snot as his tetragonal pupils.

Greg is rightly horrified.

“S-Something’s happening to me, Dad. I don’t know how to stop it,” he whines, shaking his head. “It hurts.”

“The Gem’s don’t know what to do?”

He cries harder. He shakes his head faster.

“I don’t want it to get worse. I don’t want to be a monster, Dad.”

“A monster?! Wait, wait, hold on—have you tried going to the hospital?”

“I can’t go to the hospital, they won’t know what to do with me at the hospital!” He holds his hands out next to him in exasperation. “I’m half magic!”

“Yeesh, yeah, you’re right.”

Greg is out of suggestions, and Steven is crying so hard that it wracks his entire body, so Greg does the only thing he can do and throws his arms around his son (avoiding his pointy head, of course.)

If he could do nothing else, he could be a shoulder to cry on.

(He notices that on the nape of his neck, there is a small patch of pink. He figures that now is not the most opportune time to break the news.)


	6. Fabrication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is destruction and paranoia in a Nightmare of Fabrication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so you know when you're really depressed and spend all day laying on the couch watching true crime documentaries...yeah same
> 
> also if anyone gets the anime references in this chapter, i love you

Strangely, he’s stopped dreaming.

In the months prior, he’d been plagued with them almost every time he closed his eyes. But, somewhere along the way, his dreams went blank. He’s not upset about this, just slightly unnerved, especially considering he’s feeling much more out of control than he had when the nightmares started.

It must have something to do with the corruption—he’s pretty sure that’s what’s going on, at least. At first, the idea scared him more than anything else in the world, but as he lets it sink in, the idea becomes a part of his deterioration. He can’t do anything about it, so to continue to get more worked up about it doesn’t make sense to him.

Yeah, sure, he could turn into a confused and scared monster that doesn’t remember who he is and can’t remember how to look like himself, but in a way, it’s only a few degrees worse than his current state.

(A tiny piece of him is kinda okay with it—yeesh, that sounds bad. Of course he’s scared, and of course he’s terribly anxious about the whole thing, but it would also be okay if he just slinked away and became a nondescript being who haunted a part of the wilderness. Then, he could disappear and not exactly die. And, that, he would welcome with open arms.)

It’s so selfish, and he knows it. He knows that if circumstances develop to that state that it’ll hurt everyone just as he’s hurting them now, but he also probably wouldn’t be totally conscious of it, and that narcissistic infant deep in his subconscious who craves _something_ could take over. He could hide away where no one could see him. They would move on eventually. They have been gradually moving on from Rose, so they could do it again, right?

He’s been stuck in bed again, half because he’s been way more lethargic than usual and half because Pearl has demanded he no longer go on unsupervised excursions until they know more about what’s going on. It’s ridiculous because it’s _obviously_ corruption, but Garnet’s protests have left Pearl and Amethyst with no choice but to tread on thin ice.

To Steven, it just feels patronizing.

He holds up his hand above his head as if he were checking his nails, but he’s really looking at the way pink pigment has begun to spread from his wrist and down his hand.

When Pearl saw the pink tinge of his hand the first time, she all but screamed, hands clasped over her mouth, eyes wide and horrified.

Of course, it’s horrifying. How could it not be? But, the human psyche can’t always be cranked up to eleven. It’s not possible. After a certain amount of time, the panic dies into apathy. The depression swallows the anxiety that’s usually so ever-present.

(Which also means he’s getting worse.)

That fact doesn’t worry him as much as it should, but honestly, he can't find the energy to care.

* * *

He stands on the platform and wills himself to be warped to Little Homeworld, just so he can talk to people who aren’t so awfully worried about him. There’s a flash and then—

He’s still standing in the dome.

“Huh?”

He tries again.

Nothing. Not even a flash this time.

He kneels and presses his hand to the warp and visibly struggles, gritting his teeth and shaking with the sheer willpower he’s using to try and activate it. But, it doesn’t work.

“Heh, so it’s already that bad, huh?” he asks the empty air. He laughs a loud and empty laugh that isn’t because the situation is funny but because he can’t figure out an appropriate emotional response to his condition.

He plops into a cross-legged sitting position, hands on his knees, staring upward at the sky through the crystalline dome. Nothing about any of this has felt real. He can’t tell if he’s dissociating or if his brain is becoming Pink Diamond colored, too.

His chin connects with his chest, and he laughs again. Everything is so ridiculous, just so utterly unbelievable that he feels like he’s going even more crazy than he has before. He grazes his fingers on the surface of the warp pad but does not receive any tactile feedback. 

Yep, definitely dissociating.

NetDr says that anxiety and dissociation can be helped by ‘Grounding Techniques,’ but how is he supposed to ground himself with touch and sight and sound and deep breathing if he doesn’t feel connected to reality hardly at all? His breaths feel like they're being breathed by someone else's lungs. Anything he does feels like it's happening to another person. It's like he's astral projecting but all the time and in his own body.

He flops onto his back, accidentally bonking his head against the platform a little harder than he meant to, but of course, he can’t tell if it hurt or not. 

Physical dissociation is just unpleasant. He wishes it were emotional instead because then he could pretend like he isn't as messed up as he is and continue to live life peacefully, bottling up his feelings and stuffing them down until he dies. 

Yeah, really healthy. But, healthy isn’t fun or amusing. Healthy is actually feeling every painful memory and actually getting upset and actually making other people upset and actually wanting to live a normal life where he likes himself and actually has normal human relationships. Pfft. Who wants that?

Okay, so _maybe_ he’s a little bit in denial about this whole corruption thing. He lifts his hand over his head again and looks at the pink on his wrist. How is it supposed to click in? He can’t will it to snap into its proper place in his mind. His arm falls back to the platform.

(_You are corrupting. You _are_ becoming a monster, Steven. Snap out of it._)

“Hmmm…”

(_Why do you feel like this isn’t a huge deal? Why are you so chill about it?_)

“I honestly don’t know.”

(_This is worse than actually doing something to help yourself! You know that, right?_)

“Yeah.”

(_And, yet, you’re just going to lay here and stare at the ceiling._)

“Sounds about right.”

“Hey, Steven?”

Amethyst’s voice sounds very small compared to how it usually is. He sits up quickly, not having realized she was there. His head gets slightly fuzzy for a second from the sudden change in position.

“Oh, hey, Amethyst.”

She looks concerned, a look that doesn’t feel quite right when seeing it on her face.

“Who are you talking to?”

Steven laughs, “Oh, just myself.”

He obviously thinks it’s funny, but Amethyst doesn’t agree and moves on.

“What are you doing laying on the warp pad?”

“Well, I was trying to warp to Little Homeworld,” he explains, “but I can’t get it to work. Guess I am actually corrupted after all.” This, again, strikes him as funny, but it’s not funny at all. He laughs. Amethyst cringes.

“Bro, you have a screw loose,” she says, walking over and sitting down next to him. “Why are you acting like this is a joke?”

“As I told my inner monologue, I don’t really know. I’m not trying to.” He sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping to reveal how he actually feels deep inside himself. “I guess I feel like none of it’s real.”

Her expression is deathly serious, and it scares him. “Yeah, I can relate to that. I just don’t know how to help. It hurts to see you messed up like this.”

Oh no. His giddiness disappears just like that. He’s hurting her just by nature of his proximity. It makes him feel horrible.

“I don’t want you to help,” he lies, muttering under her breath. “I can take care of myself.”

“Um, dude—newsflash, but you can’t. You’re literally turning pink!”

It is slightly alarming that when he looks back at his hand, the pink coloration has reached his knuckles when it had only been about half his hand before. However, it’s not as alarming as it should be. Honestly, he just feels numb.

“And, you’re talking to yourself. You can’t warp. You have horns. You have diamond eyes.”

“Yeah, thanks, I know,” he snaps. “I just can’t work up the energy to be anxious about it anymore. And, to be fair, I was just having a simple mental deliberation with myself, it’s not like I’m hearing things or anything.”

“That’s not the point, okay? You’re just…” She obviously doesn’t know what to say. She’s way out of her emotional depth. “It just reminds me of that time right after the whole Rose-Pink thing where you just _literally_ would not accept any attempt to cheer you up.”

(_It’s almost like you want to suffer._)

“I just…” he looks down at his hands that don’t feel real, “I don’t know how.”

The admission takes Amethyst off guard. He doesn’t want to look at her face, but he can tell she’s surprised by how her body tenses.

It’s probably the most truthful thing he’s said in days. How is he supposed to accept love, accept _himself_, when he’s lived his entire adolescence pounding it into his own head that he needs to put other people first, to not even consider what he may think or feel? That’s not something you can just undo when asked. It’s created pathways in the brain, connected neurons that shouldn’t have been connected. He can’t just _stop_.

(_You don’t want to stop. You want to make sure everyone knows that you’re miserable. You want to play the helpless child, but because you can’t admit it, you have to manipulate everyone into taking care of you. You’re just as bad as Her._)

The thought is harrowing. It’s the first time the voice in his head has said something that’s spooked him.

“Amethyst, am I…” This is so hard to say. “Am I like her?”

“Like who?” she quirks an eyebrow.

“Like Mom. Am I…bad?”

The silence in the dome is deafening. Amethyst looks absolutely bewildered, and not in a good way.

“S-Steven! You’re not b-bad,” she’s so shocked, she can barely get the words out. “Why do you think you’re bad?” She asks as if she had not said the same thing years ago.

(‘_I’m bad and you shouldn’t be around me_.’)

“I’m making everyone suffer, and it’s my fault.”

“No—Steven, stop it! None of this is your fault.”

“But, you just said that I’m not taking this seriously. What if I’m doing it on purpose? What if I’m just doing it for attention?”

Her eyes dart around the room as if looking for something to either give her an answer or get her out of the conversation altogether.

“Ste-man, it’s—it’s not your fault.” She puts a hand on his shoulder, but he refuses to look up from his lap. “We all have stuff that messes with us, and we all have times when we’re feeling down. That part is normal. But, you’re…you’re obviously in pain, little dude. No one wants to see their friends hurt, y’know.”

Steven doesn’t say anything.

“You’ve seen all of us at our worst, so no shame. Life is wild, and it’ll beat you down if you’re not careful.”

His hell brain interjects—(_Here we are in the Future, and it sucks!_) That’s actually kind of funny now that he’s thinking about it.

“Yeah. I’m just really paranoid about it. Like, it’s hard to figure out what I’m feeling when there’s so much. I’m afraid of being selfish.”

“Trust me, Steven. You’re, like, the exact opposite of selfish.”

He laughs nervously. “Yeah, that’s probably why I have a complex about it.”

She laughs, too, slapping him on the back in good humor.

“Alright, enough of this mushy shit. Let’s get you something to eat. I don’t think I’ve seen you eat anything in _days_.”

Food? Oh, yeah. He forgot he needs that. It’s not like he can tell he’s hungry when he can barely feel anything at all. And, taking care of the human body is _exhausting_.

“Okay, sounds like a plan.”

Steven tries to return her smile, but he’s unable to scrape together the gumption to do so.

* * *

He watches TV in the early hours of the morning when he should be sleeping, but his sleep routine has shifted from normal to nocturnal. Sleep during the day, awake at night. He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t help it, and he wonders if it’s the corruption or the depression that’s doing it to him.

But, when he’s not watching infomercials or weather broadcasts, he’s watching national news and crime documentaries, the ones they put on late at night because kids aren’t supposed to be watching them. He’s not a kid in the same way he used to be, but he is sensitive and empathetic. The shows haunt him, and at the same time, intrigue him, which is why he watches them almost religiously some nights.

“Aurora Whitley, 7, has been found dead in the Empire City River. Previously, reports stated she had been declared missing when she’d not come home after being dropped off by the school bus she normally rode.”

A graphic of a young girl with a big smile and wild, wavy blonde hair appears on screen. It’s so blonde, it almost looks white. It strikes him as odd that her eyes are the shade of amethysts.

“Investigators report that the prime suspect is her mother, Morgan Whitley.”

The woman, solemnly silent as she’s being led away by police, appears on screen. She has the same blonde hair, but it’s stick straight and slightly greying. She’s very beautiful, just like her child. She does not look upset so much as she seems to be in shock. Maybe she thought she got away with it and wasn't prepared to get caught?

“What could incite a mother to kill her own child?” The investigator’s name is Kristopher Hansel, and his voice is smooth and melodic even when talking about unspeakable crimes.

“Apparently, her former lover, Harold Horen, forced her to carry his child to term even when she had previously refused to have children at all. We have evidence to believe he assaulted her. Mr. Horen also disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Although, there are no current leads on his missing person’s case.”

A reporter is heard shouting off-screen.

“Ms. Whitley? Did you do it?”

She makes eye contact with the camera, but her expression doesn’t change. Her eyes don’t carry emotion.

“Aurora was a very special child. She will be greatly missed,” Morgan says right before she’s shoved in a police car to be taken to some other location. The coldness of the statement shakes Steven to his bones, but that’s what he likes about these shows. It’s sort of masochistic in that way.

Kristopher Hansel appears on screen again, straightening his papers by tapping them on the desk.

“Morgan Whitley is currently being held at Empire City Maximum Security Prison until she appears for trial next year.”

Horrifying, Steven thinks to himself. It wasn’t like he even really blamed the mother because she was forced to have a child she didn’t want, but to kill her in cold blood—ugh. How people can be so cruel escapes him.

“This next story takes place in a very similar area, just southwest of Empire City.”

A news reporter appears on screen that Steven doesn’t recognize.

“Yes, Kris, in the small town of Ocean City, Delmarva, we’ve been covering a case that defies all science and logic.

“Sixteen years ago, in this small beach town, a woman known by the moniker Rosaline Carter died while giving birth. She was succeeded by her newborn son, Sean Carter-Weltall. His father, Gregory Weltall, recalls the experience.”

A man in his forties stares in the corner of the shot, avoiding the investigator’s eyes. He’s obviously tearing up.

“She was the love of my life. I met her at a book store, and I found her to be the most charming person on the planet. We dated for a few years before deciding to have children, but…”

The lady investigator tilted her head in sympathy and leaned forward just a bit, “She died.”

“Yeah, she did.”

“Rosaline was adored by all her friends and family.”

“Yeah, she was amazing. Kind, thoughtful, smart.”

Now the investigator leans back in her chair. “But, was she?”

“Huh?”

“Did you know that Ms. Rosaline Carter is a false identity?”

The man looks absolutely shocked. He's stunned into silence, so the woman continues.

"We have evidence to believe she was a war criminal."

“A war criminal?! How is that even possible!”

The screen flashes to an image of the woman. Her red hair is large and curly, her eyes and smile are kind. “That’s right,” the voiceover comes in, “Rosaline Carter was actually the daughter of an infamous ruler on a far off but familiar planet.”

Steven shakes his head. “What?” he has to say out loud to make sure he’s actually in reality.

The program goes back to the interview.

“Your partner was a woman named Rosa Gartennelke Diamant. She was the heiress to the Imperial Saturn Army.”

“Saturn? Saturn has an Imperial Army?”

The voiceover comes in again, “Our investigation shows that it was most likely that Rosa Diamant fled her colony while trying to stage a coup, which ultimately failed. She escaped to Earth to be with humans, and eventually, have a child.”

A new woman is being interviewed. She’s thin and has strawberry blonde hair. She looks very nervous.

“Why do you think she wanted to give birth to the child who led to her death?” the interviewer asked the lady.

“I think she saw the child as spoils of war.”

Steven feels his breath catch in his throat.

This…can’t about him. But, it—it seems like it is. He feels a shiver of something similar to panic run through him.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, it’s the ultimate symbol of humanity, to give birth. To pass down information through reproduction is a form of ‘Heavenly Love’ according to Plato, who she loved to read." The woman pauses and smiles wistfully, like she's remembering a time long passed. "I think it was a symbol of Rosaline’s freedom from her mother.”

“Do you think she loved Gregory?”

The small woman pauses again to think. Her words are delicately chosen and careful. “I think she…cared very deeply for him. Their relationship was very special to her. He definitely changed her outlook on life and was a factor in her decision to become pregnant—”

Steven panics, grabs the remote, and quickly changes the channel to The Forecast Network. The soft music of ‘Local on the 7s’ does nothing to calm him. 

What was that? There was something about the story that seemed wrong. It couldn’t have been real. This thought does nothing to quell the feeling that he’s being spied on. Did everyone do this behind his back—create fake aliases, blab about his life story, change every detail just slightly? Or, was it a dramatization where details were changed to protect their identities? But, how would they know anything? The only way would be if the Gems told them. They wouldn’t do that, though. They keep secrets from all humans not associated with them.

The anxiety in him is different now. It buzzes in the back of his head and tumbles like clothes in a washing machine. 

Is he being watched right now? Steven looks around his room. If there are cameras somewhere, they aren't obviously visible.

He notices a bear that he’s placed next to the TV. It’s the one Connie bought him after he gave MC Bear Bear to Lars. It has a red ribbon tied around its neck with a little bell on it, but otherwise, it’s a pretty basic stuffed bear. Brown fur with a white belly. Button eyes and a stitched smile. It’s simple but well made. It's just the type of thing that Connie would pick out.

But…placed there, right in front of his bed…it has a full view of his room…

Panic strikes him again. What if Connie bought a bear that had a camera inside it? She probably didn’t do it on purpose, but the eyes were dark enough that they might be mistaken for regular buttons, so maybe it was just an honest mistake. Maybe it was planted specifically so Connie would buy it and give it to him. Oh man, it might even go back even farther. What if those crime documentaries need more stories to tell so they plant devices in things hoping they’ll be picked up and taken home?

Or, maybe it's the Diamonds! They want to be with him so bad, they’re spying on him to keep themselves busy without an empire to run. Then, the signal could be intercepted by anyone!

His hands shake as he opens a desk drawer and takes out a pair of scissors. 

He picks up the toy, first snipping the red ribbon on its neck. The bell clangs when it hits the floor. Then, he snips off each button eye. They are real buttons, but what if the camera is inside and they just camouflaged the lens?

“Sorry, buddy,” he says with a frown. “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

The scissors make a ripping sound as he digs the blade into the stitched smile of its face and pushes upward. The stuffing is pure white, like the fake snow they put in the shop displays during wintertime. Tugging the head open with his fingers, it’s clear that there is no camera. But…maybe it’s somewhere else?

He takes to the belly next, once again creating a hole big enough to tug the fabric apart. There’s nothing but the fluffy insides of a teddy bear.

Steven comes to his senses then, staring at the maimed doll. He drops it in horror.

“O-Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

The sound of the scissors clattering to the floor echos in his mind.

* * *

Steven opens his eyes. It’s morning. He breathes a sigh of relief.

It was all a dream—thank goodness. He laughs to himself, throwing the covers off and standing up to stretch. It wasn’t the weirdest dream he’s ever had, but it's still upsetting to him.  He kind of feels stupid for thinking it was real in the first place.  He looks over at his TV stand, just to make sure, and the bear is sitting there peacefully. 

But, there’s…something different about it. He can’t put his finger on it until he accidentally kicks something across the floor with his foot. He walks over and—

It’s the red ribbon with the bell.

His exhale comes out shaky. He reaches for it to make sure it’s real and can’t help but notice that his entire right hand has turned pink.


	7. Paranoia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately for Steven, some of the things he's paranoid about might actually come true. Or, he's just lost touch with reality. It doesn't really matter in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im depressed dawg but at least getting some writing out makes me feel like im doing something even if its kinda short B) bear with me guys lol

Steven sits on his bed and stares at a blank TV screen. He’s too afraid to turn it on anymore because everyone is always talking about him.

It doesn’t make sense. Of course, it doesn’t. There’s no reason for every channel and every program to either mention something they shouldn’t know or talk directly to him through the monitor. He knows it’s not logical and is logistically impossible, but because it keeps happening…he can’t help but take it seriously.

He didn’t have curtains over the sliding glass window, so he taped up blankets to block out any chance of interference from the outside—he doesn’t even know what he’s protecting himself against, drone or satellites, maybe? It doesn’t matter because it makes him feel better regardless of the lack of solid reasoning behind it. It’s also one of the times he wishes he had a door that he could lock because someone might come up while he’s sleeping and…he doesn’t know. But, the idea makes him so nervous he shakes and can’t find it in him to rest.

He’s keyed up over everything, but nothing he’s normally keyed up about. He’s keyed up over the idea of being spied on, being watched, being in danger.

(Steven looks guiltily to the bear next to his TV, the red ribbon sloppily tied back onto his neck.)

Unfortunately, not turning on the TV doesn’t give him peace of mind because he’s also convinced that the Gems are whispering about him, but that’s a lot more believable because they probably are. It had never made him nervous before, though. Maybe annoyed or sad, but never nervous.

(Even though he hasn’t physically heard them speak for a while, he somehow knows that they’re going to take him to the Diamonds to see if they can heal him. Maybe not now, but at some point. This idea fills him up with terror so great that he can feel the butterflies flying around wildly in his chest and their wings scraping against his abdominal cavity.)

(_They can’t see me like this, they can’t see me like this, they can’t see me like this, they can’t see me like this._)

He grabs his previously destroyed bear and presses it to his chest, the feeling of contact, even with an inanimate object, feels calming. 

“I won’t let anything hurt you again, Little Bear Bear.”

He sits down on the bed again and looks at it. His eyes aren’t buttons like he remembers them being, but instead, they’re little black beads sewn into the fabric. He has to wonder why he thought they were buttons before. Strange. 

Almost as if reading his thoughts, Little Bear Bear blinks.

“Ah!” he gasps, accidentally tossing the toy onto the floor and scrambling back on his bed. He watches as it gets up and glares at him before yanking off the red ribbon and hurling it towards him. The bell hits directly in the middle of Steven’s forehead. “Ow,” he says, rubbing the place of impact, “What was that for?”

The bear skitters across the floor, climbing up some of the furniture. He seems to be looking for something, throwing papers off his desk, opening drawers. Then, it dons on him what he’s trying to find, but it’s just a second too late.

_Scissors._

Oh-kay, not exactly the kind of danger he expected to be in, but…

Little Bear Bear holds the scissors above his head, one paw in each part of the handle and snaps the blades together twice—_snap! snap!_—before making a leaping jump onto the bed. Steven leaps up and dodges the tiny attack. Luckily, his assailant's small stature makes it easy for Steven to run around him and pluck the scissors out of his tiny mitts.

This does not please Little Bear Bear one bit. He glowers, crouches, and launches himself at Steven’s face.

This causes Steven to yell and stumble backward, simultaneously trying to pry the mischievous plush from his head and to keep the weapon away from him. He can’t believe this little guy can pull at his hair so hard, but he does, and it hurts, especially near where his horns are.

He takes another few steps back only to realize there is no more floor, only stairs. He yelps, but it’s too late, and he’s tumbling backward, the scissors flying out of his hand and skittering down the stairs much faster than Steven's body can. It feels like he’s trapped in a very painful washing machine for a few seconds, and then, his head connects with the ground.

Of course, it hurts, but his main goal is to get this creature off his goddamn face. The adrenaline he has is enough to yank the toy free and reach just far enough so his fingers can touch the handle and finesse it into his grasp. 

Steven slams Little Bear Bear into the ground, and there’s a second where he just pants, looking at the toy as it stares menacingly back. The bear has changed somehow. It almost looks more like him, more Steven-like.

The situation makes sense now. He doesn’t remember doing it, but he must have used his healing powers to put the bear back together. And, he wants to kill him. Classic. A very common arc for him. Hurt people and heal them. Have them hate him or gain their trust again. He feels like he’s done this thousands of times, and maybe he has. It isn’t like he’s been keeping count.

But, this is the first time something he’s made come alive has turned against him (besides Frybo and his jeans, of course, but that wasn’t his power that’d done that. The Watermelon Steven's don't count because they became peaceful after a while). 

(‘_I started this, and now I have to end it!_’)

Before he can consciously decide the best course of action or even rationalize the circumstances in his mind, he raises the scissors above his head and stabs Little Bear Bear forcefully. And, he does it again, and again, and again because he’s somehow created this evil little thing that’s trying to kill him, and maybe it’s because all of his stuffed toys are evil. Maybe the paranoia he’s been feeling is because all the toys he’s shoved in the closet have been planning his demise, and he has to end all of this once and for all.

Steven stands up and lets out a breath, and he feels better. He goes back up the stairs, and this time, there is no saving Little Bear Bear.

* * *

He sits on his bed, playing on his phone. He’s finally been in the proper state of mind to charge it, but he’s still ignoring any and all communication sent to him. Brain numbing tap-the-screen games are what he needs right now, something to take his mind off of the unusual type of stress plaguing him as of late. He knows that his phone spies on him, too, but he knows the true culprits now, so it doesn’t bother him as much.

In fact, he feels a huge weight off his shoulders. With the front door locked, his windows blocked off, and the spies dealt with, he’s not actively panicking, but he’s also not going to risk turning on the TV because that would just be dumb.

It feels nice to be in his little depression canopy, to be completely blocked off from the world. No one can hurt him or use him or rely on him. Maybe the solution to all his problems is to be completely isolated. 

(That nagging idea haunts him again—maybe corruption isn’t so bad. He’d have a reason to isolate. He’d have a reason for being completely alone. His mind would disconnect from the real world, and nothing would ever bother him again.)

He knows that it’s a long shot. Corruption is probably deeply unsettling or painful. Maybe both. But, even knowing the consequences, he wants to rest. He wants to escape.

Sighing, he goes back to playing his game. He doesn’t know how much time he spends doing this. The next thing he knows is that he hears his name.

“Steven…?”

He looks up from his phone, and Pearl is standing at the entrance of his bedroom. Her eyes flit back and forth. She looks at him and then on each side of the room, at the blanket on the window, at the TV that’s been turned to face the wall, and then down at her hands, which hold a disembodied bear head and the remains of what looks like fuzz and cut up fabric.

“Huh, yeah, Pearl?”

She looks to be in shock.

“Did you…do all of this?”

“Do all of what?”

“All of…_this_,” she gestures to the floor, where white stuffing and torn open toys litter the ground. Some are mutilated beyond recognition, and some are simply dissembled, the head or the body torn apart. She holds up the debris she’s been holding. “Isn’t this the bear that Connie gave you?”

“Oh, yeah, it is. But, he tried to kill me, so…”

“What?”

“Yeah, and then, I realized that the reason I keep being mentioned on TV was because all my toys hated me and were spying on me. So, I took them apart.”

Pearl’s hands squeeze around the fluff in her hands.

“Excuse me for a second.” She drops the toy and turns around, walking down the stairs with a dazed look on her face.

He can hear as she fumbles down the stairs and is not quiet when shouting for Garnet.

“What is it, Pearl?”

“It wasn’t Lion. He’s the one who tore apart the toy.” She’s breathing heavily.

“_What?_” It’s Amethyst this time.

“And, all his other ones are destroyed, too! I don’t understand it, he was talking about spies and something about the TV and things hating him, and—”

“Pearl, calm down,” Garnet says evenly, even though she sounds slightly aggravated. She’s probably just as upset as Pearl but better at hiding it. “I can barely understand you.”

“His toys. They’re all—they’re _all_ torn apart.”

“He destroyed all of his things?” Amethyst is clearly very distraught. “That…doesn’t seem like Steven.”

“He’s not okay. He needs help, I just…don’t know what to do for him.”

Garnet is still silent even after all of the things laid out before her.

“He’s showing signs of paranoid delusions,” Pearl’s voice breaks as she’s saying it, “but that’s something seen in schizophrenia, and he’s right at the age where he might begin to show symptoms, but it doesn’t run in his family, so I—”

This is all very annoying to him. If they have a problem, they should say it to his face. This further proves that they are conspiring behind his back. That should make him nervous, but it just makes him angry.

“I can hear you talking about me,” he hollers down to them. 

There’s silence. Then, Garnet speaks up.

“Steven, would you like to talk to us?”

No, absolutely not.

But, he has to, or they might get some bright ideas.

Walking down the stairs feels like a lifetime. His body feels like it’s moving slower than should be physically possible. His mind threatens to flee, to dissociate completely, but he has to stay with it long enough to convince them that he’s fine. Because he’s obviously _so_ fine. It takes a considerable amount of energy to not burst out laughing at the thought.

When he gets down to the first floor, they’re all standing there awkwardly. Amethyst’s eyebrows are pulled together. Garnet’s expression is blank. Pearl's whole face is riddled with anxiety.

“Steven.” Garnet’s voice is careful and even. “Can you explain what’s happening?”

“I—” He wonders for a second if he should change his story, but anything other than the truth makes it look worse than it already is. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking you to apologize. If you’re in distress, that’s nothing to say sorry for.”

“You’re just going to say I’m crazy.”

Pearl crouches down and puts a hand on his curly hair, doing her best to avoid the spiky parts. “No, no, Steven,” her voice is soft and motherly, “that’s not what I was trying to say. I’m just so worried about you, and—”

Steven looks away. “I knew you guys were talking about me. I could tell since yesterday. I couldn’t hear you, but I knew.”

“Waa?” Pearl makes a confused noise, her hand retreating from his head.

“Did you tell the people on the news about me?”

His tone is genuinely hurt because, well—he is genuinely hurt. He believes with all his might that there’s something…something…something—he doesn’t know what it is, but it’s out there, and it’s saddening to him that the Gems may be contributing to it.

All of the Gems look at each other, trying to make sense of his question. Garnet shrugs. Amethyst is visibly becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

“We don’t know what you’re talking about, Steven.”

“The news knew about us and knew about Mom. I don’t know how. That’s why I knew someone was spying on me. I think it was the toys, so I broke them all.”

There’s silence. No one knows what to say or how to make sense of such an illogical thought process.

Finally, unable to hold herself back any longer, Amethyst snaps, “Dude, you’re getting worse! You’re literally talking nonsense!”

“I _know_ I’m getting worse! I know okay, I just…”

They’re all now painfully aware that his entire right arm has turned pink. It’s even bled up to his neck. He’s also begun to develop discolorations along his forearm. He’s beginning to look more like a creature and less like himself.

“We have to _do something!_ If you just close yourself off in your room—I don’t know what will happen, but probably something really bad!”

“Amethyst, please,” Garnet admonishes. “But, she is right, Steven. Ignoring the problem is not a solution.”

“I don’t know what else to do, Garnet. I really don’t know what to do.”

Once again, the three gems share a glance, but this one is far more nervous. He is very scared about what they’re going to say next.

Garnet clears her throat.

“I think we should see the Diamonds.”

Steven doesn’t know whether or not he’s being paranoid, but that seems to be the worst option.

“The Diamonds?!” he shouts before he can consider that yelling that loud might be even more evidence of his fractured mental state. “I can’t go see the Diamonds! Not like this!”

“But, Steven, your corruption…they’re the only ones who can heal you since you aren’t able to do so yourself,” Pearl says.

He’s beyond panicked now. He feels like his world is being flipped upside-down. He was right to doubt the Gems. They can’t help him, and they’re just going to turn him over to the Great Diamond Authority to be shattered.

“But, I—but I can’t! They’re going to hurt me!”

“They’re not going to hurt you. They love you!” Amethyst says, “Like, to the point that it’s difficult to get them to go away sometimes.”

“No, no, no, no…no, they’re going to be mad…they’re gonna hurt me…I’m a monster…”

“You’re not a monster—”

“No!” He shakes his head furiously. “I won’t. I won’t go.” His hands are shaking, too.

“We’ve run out of options,” Garnet sighs. “We’re not just going to wait around and watch you deteriorate.”

“I’d rather you do that,” he mutters.

“Steven, you don’t mean that—”

“I do! Maybe if I’m corrupted then I can go away, and I don’t have to make everyone suffer anymore! You’d be better off without me!”

The statement forces all of them into shock. They can’t tell if Steven is being truthful or purposely inflammatory, but whatever it is, it hurts them all very deeply. Pearl’s eyes are wide and slightly misty. Garnet stands with her hands clutched and her gaze aimed towards the floorboards. Amethyst’s mouth is slightly open, as if she’s trying to say something, but can’t get the words out.

It’s too painful to bear. Steven turns away and throws the door open, sprinting out of the house and down the stairs as fast as he can. Tears stream down his face because he hates acting like this, he hates making everything _worse_, but it feels like he can’t stop. It feels like he’s wildly out of control, acting from a place that isn’t really him. But, it is really him. Maybe this is the part of himself he had tried to stuff down for years and years. Maybe he is actually a petulant brat, who let his false altruism convince himself that he was a better person than he actually is.

Everything he touches feels like it’s tainted with pain. It would be better if he just disappeared.

He’s running, running so fast that he can’t even comprehend where he is or where he’s going. That’s also probably because he’s started feeling stabbing pain radiating from his arms, from his back, from his face. It feels like that headache once did, and it adds an extra dash of panic onto his already overloaded body and mind.

The sound of his feet pounding against the concrete sounds so loud all of a sudden. And, his vision is swimming a bit. He doesn’t stop running, though, because he needs to get as far away as possible from them. He can’t let them find him, so like he always does, he pushes himself until his body literally gives up on him.

He must have made it to the forest because when he hits the ground, he collides with dirt.


	8. Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knows he's making everything worse. He's already accepted that everything is his fault, but that doesn't make it less painful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BRO, that new SUF trailer has me fucked up. my son is very angry, someone save my boy. i don't know if this has to be said, but because new future info is being revealed, i just want to say that im not trying to keep this canon with anything past the movie, and im not really going to touch on much with the "new"/other gems in the villain shot. this is much more of a character study of steven than it is supposed to be a prediction of future. soooo...yeah, hopefully i can finish this fic before it starts so i can keep this totally separate from the actual show (give me a release date you stinky sugar woman)
> 
> also the song quoted in this chapter is [Young by Vallis Alps](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoZPVMEsbeQ)

Feelings are uniquely complicated because they are not quantifiable in a scientific sense. In studies, they must be self-reported. In treatment, it’s a scale from one to ten. Emotions do not have concrete origins. People react differently to different situations. No two people have the exact same experiences.

And, trauma—well, trauma is its own thing.

People mostly know about PTSD, the condition the occurs after a traumatic event like a car accident, or a natural disaster, or an assault of some sort. But, traumatic events can be small. One here, one there. They can build up over many years, and without proper support or treatment, they can take over your entire life, your very self. Personality changes, mood disorders, selective avoidance, dissociation, isolation, anger, fear.

It’s one thing to read it on paper, to see the bullet points under each condition, but the pure weight of psychological pain cannot be communicated with diagnostic criteria alone.

They don't tell you about the torture. 

Jump at a sound, cry at a drop of a pin, panic at the most mundane things. Hate yourself for all of the things you do, all the things you’ve done, all the things that happened to you. Self-hatred is a complicated coping mechanism, but it is a coping mechanism. People don’t develop such beliefs for no reason. At some point, hatred works. At another, it doesn’t.

You lay on the couch, lay on your bed. You look like you're being lazy but (you literally hate every fiber of your being because you can't _do anything. _It's so fucking maddening because you know you can, but you just can't. And, the more you hate yourself, the less you can do because you’re berating yourself for not doing anything, and it sinks you farther and farther down the sinkhole.)

Sometimes it's better, sometimes it's worse. Sometimes it's just feeling discontented, and sometimes it's raging sadness and anger all aimed at yourself, all telling you how worthless and horrible you are. 

Sometimes, you just want to die. 

It's hard to explain because no one really wants to die, not really anyway. It's just that sometimes life becomes so horribly overwhelming that the only solution you can come to is "give up." You can’t take it anymore. It’s so searingly painful every single day that the only option left is to die.

And, sometimes you're laying on the dirty ground, writhing in agony because you're sprouting a fucking tail. 

* * *

He’d wished for it to a certain extent, so he’s just getting what he asked for.

The last time, he had blacked out because of the intense pain, but his mind won’t give up in the same way his body has. And, so he feels the physical manifestations of all his horrible thoughts and feelings push through his skin, paint him the color of roses. Is it the most pain he’s ever felt? He doesn’t know anymore.

One moment, he’s surrounded by blistering heat, and one moment, he’s shivering against the ground, balled up as small as he can in order to keep himself from freezing. The oscillation back and forth makes him feel like he’s going to throw up, but he hasn't eaten in a while, so he doesn't.

Along with the physical discomfort, he doesn’t feel quite like himself. Maybe it’s because he is this monster, and in his heart of hearts, he doesn’t want to accept that this is his fate. He could have stopped it at any time, but he didn’t. So, he’s getting what he deserves.

_Is it my fault?_

_It is my fault._

_I always knew it was._

His shoulders have grown spikes, but that part was the least painful. The growth of his teeth and the new protrusions on his face hurt far worse. But, a tail? Fuck, that’s so weird, he can’t help but think. And, it hurts so bad, he wishes for the sweet release of unconsciousness, but he’s forced to bear the brunt of his actions, and Steven can’t really fault the universe for that.

In his current state, he is unaware that, as he thrashes on the ground, he’s making sounds that are similar to growls, to grunts. He sounds animalistic. But, he’s too wrapped up in his own mind to notice. He belongs there in the forest with the other animals that can’t muster human speech, that rely on base instincts to survive.

But, eventually…eventually the pain stops. The birds chirp overhead, the sun shines through the leaves in the trees, spots of warmth bless his skin.

When he opens his eyes, he is not in the forest but in a blank room. It’s white all around him.

But, it’s quiet here. There’s nothing. It feels…

It feels nice.

When there’s usually so much guilt and blame and fault inside him, being alone in a vast expanse of loneliness feels _nice_. He isn’t beholden to anyone. He isn’t responsible for anything. His mind is clearly not in sync with his bodily reality, so he can let it all drift away, let the sounds of nature dissolve into white noise in the back of his brain.

He can’t remember the last time he’s felt this relaxed. Maybe when he was young and nothing bothered him. To be a child was difficult because he had wanted to grow up so fast, but now that he’s older, he desperately wants to go back. Who cares if the Gems don’t think he’s strong enough? Who cares if his powers are uncontrollable and mysterious? He’d give it all up to go back.

But, since he can’t do that, he’s given up his body and his sanity in exchange for peace. It may sound crazy, but who cares? For all intents and purposes, he is crazy. It’s worth being crazy so he won't be in pain.

Steven closes his eyes again and drifts into the void of his mind.

* * *

A hum. An arm around his shoulders.

A shoulder to lay on. A song.

“_Look back to when midnights broke their sleep, awake in our memories of when we would make believe…_”

He opens his eyes. He’s still in the white room, but he feels comforted in a different way than just being nothing.

“_Collide, the colors of the masquerade—watch as they fall away. Faceless under faces made._”

A lock of curly hair falls over his back. It smells like fresh flowers, sea spray, and the boardwalk.

“Mom?”

“Hello, my dear.” She smiles so kindly that Steven’s heart jumps in his chest. She feels real, real like in the room and real like on the beach, which means this experience has no chance of being real. But, in this state, he welcomes the feeling of love. Love, love, love. Oh, he’s missed love without condition, love without the burden of being The Adult.

“Mom,” he repeats, giving her a hug. Before he realizes it, he’s crying. All of the pain and suffering flow out of him in wracking sobs. She wraps him in an embrace that is so warm, he might just flare up and burn away. “Mom, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Steven, what are you talking about?” She squeezes him, and he can’t help but let out a noise that sounds truly pitiful. 

“I couldn’t take care of them. I couldn’t do the one thing you asked me to do. I failed.”

“Oh, no, no. Steven, you didn’t fail.” She looks genuinely heartbroken. “I never wanted to put that sort of burden on you.”

“But, that’s what it felt like. I felt like I had to support them…more than myself.”

“I know. I know. You’re the opposite of me. You always put others first. It’s very admirable.”

“But, I’m…like this now.”

“Yes, but this is not an end,” her soft voice makes him almost believe her. “You can always fix yourself, but you cannot fix others. You can only change yourself. And, I know you well enough to know that you _can_ change. That’s what I always wanted—a gem that can learn and grow.”

“But, I’m so tired, Mom.” His crying has calmed to small hiccups and stray tears. “I want to sleep forever. I don’t want to try anymore.”

Her fingers run through his hair softly.

“Then, rest. Take a break. Stay here with me for a while.”

He inhales. The idea feels so good. It’s warm in his chest. It’s relieving to know he doesn’t have to try. The entire weight of the universe falls off him.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, Steven.”

He lays in her lap as she rubs his sore shoulders, strokes his sore cheeks. She goes back into her song.

“_And we said, this has only just begun._”

Steven wishes he could stay in this place forever, with her forever. In this peace forever.

“_In the end, time forever favors the young…_”

* * *

Something pecks his forehead. And, not like a kiss. Like a bird.

“Ouch,” he gasps, eyes snapping open. It doesn’t help that his whole head is incredibly sore and throbbing. He angrily waves his hand around, and the bird flies off into the sky. He notices that it’s sunrise. He must have slept through the night.

Steven tries to push himself off the ground, but as soon as he bears weight on his hands, his arms buckle. His entire body flares with pain, and his breath shutters against the grass and dirt. It’s then that he realizes how incapacitated he is. Every movement makes his muscles burn, his bones ache. 

The Corruption is much more painful than he could have imagined. He’s being pulled apart from the inside. It’s not as painful as his mental anguish, not by a long shot, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It also means he can’t move, and if he’s discovered by the Gems, he can’t defend himself. 

(Although, now that he’s looking at his hands, he realizes his nails are digging into the ground. When he lifts it up, dirt is caught under long claws. He’s truly turning into an animal.)

_What have I become?_

A hollow shell of a boy. He’s accepted death even though this is not death. He’s given up everything just for mental relief. He doesn’t mind being pitiful and being frightening as long as he can have a break.

_I am pitiful. I don’t care._

His hand falls back to the ground, and he loses touch with reality once again.

* * *

He opens his eyes, but everything is murky. Like, really murky. Like he’s crying.

But, when he puts his hand to his cheek, his palm is small, cold, and white. Words spill out that aren’t his.

“I can’t believe—I can’t believe he’d do—or say, I can’t—”

“Pearl,” Garnet places a faceted hand on his shoulder. “I know. I know.” When he looks up at her, there’s a single tear running down and around her nose, which she wipes away as soon as she realizes it’s gone below her visor. He can feel their hurt. It’s strong and stabbing. It’s grief instead of the self-flagellating pain he’s used to.

“Why does he always do this?” Amethyst shouts from her place on the couch, knees pulled up to her chest. She’s also crying, but she’s also frustrated. She doesn’t understand, even though she does. But, to be fair, this isn’t the time for unfettered empathy. “He could have just _talked_ to us, but he went fucking nuts instead! Who does that?”

“I’m not trying to defend his actions, but I must admit that we can be a bit distant. And, I do have the feeling that this isn’t just a recent problem.”

“I know,” he chokes out, even though she’s the one saying it. “I’ve seen it for a while, but I didn’t know what to say. I tried, but I think…it was already too late when we noticed.”

“I don’t think it’s an excuse, though,” Amethyst grumbles.

“It’s not. There is none. But, placing blame is not going to help Steven.”

It’s then that he realizes he’s in a moment he shouldn’t have been seeing. A private conversation about him that he was not invited to. The gasp that Pearl lets out is his, and they all turn to look at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…I'm sorry—”

* * *

“Steven?”

His eyes open again. He doesn’t like that someone is talking to him. He doesn’t want anyone to talk to him. Instincts that he didn’t know he had take over.

“_Get away from me!_” he hisses, retracting back against the tree trunk that has apparently been next to him the entire time. He hadn’t been in the right mind to notice before. 

When he tries to escape, he gets to his feet only to slam back down on the ground. His adrenaline tells him to do the “flight” part of fight or flight, but all he manages to do is scramble forward a few feet before he’s out of energy.

“Steven—Steven, hey. Calm down. It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He’s panting, trying to focus his eyes even though he barely has the energy. When he meets her gaze, it takes a few moments for him to place her face.

“Hey.”

He heaves out a garbled name.

“Lapis.”

“I’m digging the new look,” she smiles.

He’s not in the mood for this kind of thing. He growls, not caring that he looks like a scared dog who is backed into a corner.

“Okay, okay, I know. That was in bad taste.” The expression she shoots him is reserved only for Steven. It’s soft and sweet because he’s Steven, and she can’t be mean to Steven. “How long have you been out here?”

She’s probably referring to the way he’s really dirty. He’s been rolling in dirt for who knows how long. There’s also blood on the ground back by the tree, and he wonders where on his body it’s caked and dried on. He probably looks totally insane, but that might be because he is.

“I don’t—I don’t know.”

“The others are really worried, y’know.” She crouches beside him, arms resting over her knees. Her baggy pants flutter as a cold breeze passes through the forest. “Pearl’s a mess,” she snorts.

“I don’t care.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true.”

“I know it’s not, though. I know you, Steven. You’re sweet and kind and caring to a fault. I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. Most of the gems in Little Homeworld wouldn’t be there if you weren’t.”

“But, I’m being—” He exhales too heavily. Even the act of talking is laborious. “I’m being selfish.”

“Maybe you are. But, everyone’s selfish. No one can be selfless all the time. That’s just not how it works. Always being selfless can cause problems just as always being selfish can.”

He doesn’t like hearing that. He wants to think he’s bad and he deserves this even though Lapis is technically right.

She reaches out to touch him, to try to make some sort of calming contact, but before he can stop himself, he spats, “_Don’t touch me_,” and slices her hand with his claws.

Lapis hisses slightly and shakes her hand, but she’s used to pain, and it doesn’t bother her much anymore. She might actually be the best person to talk him down because she doesn’t get upset easily, and her threshold for emotional pain is very high. But, she also dearly loves Steven and would sacrifice a lot for him.

“I know you’re hurt, Steven. It’s okay.”

He breathes out heavily again. It almost sounds like he’s wheezing. 

“Do you mind if I sit with you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that wasn’t really a question. You’re going to have to physically make me leave, or I’m staying put.”

They both know that Steven is not in a position to go toe-to-toe with Lapis Lazuli. 

He decides that he’s lost this round and is better off just going back to sleep.

* * *

It’s happening again. The dreams. But, it’s a different clip reel.

“Connie.”

She looks up at him, and she’s very sad. He can’t help but let his script pour out of his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Connie. I’m a mess. I know I’m hurting you and everyone, but I can’t stop.”

“Steven? Is that really you?”

“Huh?” He looks around. “Uh, yeah, I think so.”

She launches herself at him. “Oh my gosh. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

He’s dazed and confused. Is this really happening? Did Lapis manage to drag him somewhere…?

“Is this real?” he murmurs.

“Um, I don’t actually know,” she releases him. “I think so, but…”

He plops onto the ground, which he’s realizing is sand. When he picks up a handful, it’s very hot and it slowly drifts away through his fingers. Connie sits down beside him.

“You’ve been missing for so long.”

“How long?” he asks, absently looking out to the ocean. 

“A week.”

“Huh…”

There’s a pressure on his body, on his skull, on his chest. He puts his head in his hands and whines.

“I’m so not okay, Connie. I don’t even want to be seen like this. I can’t keep my head on straight.”

“Shhh…it’s alright.”

“It’s not. It’s not. I messed everything up. The worst part is I don’t even want to feel better. I just want to disappear.”

Connie looks over at him, but she seems to understand him way more than Steven would if the roles were reversed.

“I can’t blame you. You know, sometimes when I have a ton of assignments due, and my anxiety is really bad, I think that everything would be better if it all just—stopped. And, I do understand how pain feels like a good place to be. It’s natural to feel that way.”

“It’s not natural to hurt other people, though. And, I don’t even want to. That’s why I want to disappear.”

“Well…” she pauses to contemplate the sentiment. “I read this manga once, and the bad guy who you don’t know is a bad guy yet goes on a lot of philosophical rants because he’s mysterious and stuff, and he says something like, ‘The nature of living causes pain for other people, but it’s what you do with that pain that makes it all worthwhile.’ That probably doesn’t help, but I just mean that you can’t stop yourself from hurting others. It’s not how life works.”

“Huh.”

The waves wash up on the beach. It sounds so loud in his ears.

“It’s not like it’s okay, but it’s also not okay for others to hurt you, even if they don’t mean to.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Thanks, Connie. For everything.”

“Of course, Steven! I’m always here to help. And, I want you to be okay. You can rely on me, too, y’know.”

“I forget sometimes.”

“I know you do.”

Connie leans over and places a light kiss on his cheek. He giggles, and she giggles back, and it suddenly strikes him that this has happened before.

Oh no.

His head snaps to the side, and he sees something pink. He yells, “Connie! Run!”

But, it’s too late, and there’s already a familiar sword shoved through her abdomen. When she collapses on the beach, Steven expects to see his mother, but it's not. Instead, it’s the Pink Gem-half of himself with that wide-eyed, hollow, and blank stare.

“I guess she’s gone, too.”

* * *

He’s yelling, he’s struggling, but he has something pinning him down. He can’t make sense of what’s happening, so he just yells Connie’s name. It’s the only thing he can hear, and it sounds hoarse, his voice breaking at times. 

“Steven, stop!”

Maybe she’s talking about how he’s breathing too hard, or how he’s screaming his head off, or how he’s thrashing in water…

Oh.

Reality slams back into him too hard, and that’s when he realizes that Lapis has restrained him with some water that she got from…somewhere. He stops moving and looks around. He’s floating.

“Lapis?”

“Geez.” She slowly lowers him to the ground, and then she retracts the water and shoves it back into a satchel she has on her hip.

His breathing is still too hard, and he feels dizzy. He’s been through mental whiplash, and he doesn’t know if this is real or if the other reality was. 

He shoots up. “Lapis! Where’s Connie?”

She sits back down beside him, but she looks a little pissed, her arms crossed and an eyebrow quirked.

“I don’t know. With the others, probably?”

He gulps in air, but eventually manages to catch his breath, hands placed on his knees which are crossed. “I had a dream I killed her. Well, not me, but the other part of me. The part that comes out when you remove my gem.”

Lapis makes a face that says, ‘_There’s a lot to unpack there._’

“Then, that’s probably why you almost attacked me. You’re lucky I don’t sleep, or you might have maimed me with those things.”

He looks down at his hands. He opens and closes them, but like his body had for a while now, they don’t feel attached to him.

“Sorry, I’m,” he rubs at his eyes, which is admittedly difficult with talons, “I’m still messed up.”

“Yeah, well, you certainly sound a lot more coherent.”

“I do?”

“Before, you could barely keep your eyes open. Now, you’re like, talking to me somewhat normally.”

“Oh.” Now that he thinks about it, maybe it’s true. Dreaming about Connie was soothing as much as her imagined death was distressing. Also, he’s sitting up now, which is the most upright he’s been without falling right back down in…however many days. One day? Two? A week like dream-Connie had said?

“I-I don’t feel ready to leave, but I do want to see Connie. Even if I look like this. Can you get her for me?”

Lapis smiles as if this has been her plan all along. 

“No prob, Bob.”

And, just like that, she disappears into the sky. Steven takes a deep breath and hopes that Connie doesn’t hate him, or—y’know, isn’t actually dead.

* * *

Just like his dream, Connie launches herself at him the second she sees him. Except unlike his dream, she’s so much less composed, tears running down her face, sobbing into the front of his torn up and dirty star shirt. He doesn’t know if she’s doing this because of how disgusting he’s become or if she's actually been that worried about him.

She lifts her head and says, “Never scare me like that again.”

In a stupid daze, he says, “Like what?”

“Like, runaway! While you’re corrupting! I was so worried about you.”

His eyes drift off to the side, feeling guilty, but not guilty enough to regret his actions.

“I’m sorry.”

Connie takes a deep breath and steadies herself, probably realizing that admonishing him isn’t going to get them anywhere.

“I know you are, Steven. I was just so scared.” She smiles, “But, I’m glad you wanted to see me.”

“I did. I missed you.”

They embrace again, and he idly hopes that she doesn’t hurt herself on his spines. He also hopes that she’s not falling out of love with him because of this whole fiasco.

No part of Steven wants to be corrupted in front of Connie, but he cares too much about her to completely ignore the pain in his chest. He just needs to know she’s safe. He just needs to tell her that it’s fine. It’s all fine. He’s fine. Yep, he’s so fine! He’s So Fine! 

Ah ha ha.

Unable to control himself, he starts laughing, a laugh that would be more frightening to him if he were completely with it. He can tell by the way Connie’s face devolves into confusion that his reaction isn’t normal.

“Steven…?”

“Oh, I was just telling myself I was fine in my head, and it’s funny because it’s so obviously untrue.”

(His laugh turns into the same hysterical laughter as Rose’s from Stevonnie’s dream. It sounds as disturbing coming from him as it did coming from her.)

“Steven, I need you to focus for a second.”

He calms down, but now, he feels off in a different way. He feels like he’s a giddy kind of unstable. Being around Connie might be doing this to him.

“Sorry, I’m messed up.” It’s becoming a mantra just like ‘I’m fine’ has been.

“It’s okay, but we really need to get you back to the Gems.” Her eyebrows come together. “And, get you cleaned up.”

He whines, “But, I don’t want to.”

“We _have to_, Steven. It makes me so worried to see you suffering like this.”

Steven has the audacity to look her in the eyes and say, “I’m not suffering.”

Connie sighs. “However you want to describe it—it’s only something the Gems can fix.”

“I…don’t want to…”

She sits back on her heels. “You don’t want to feel better?”

His arms wrap around himself, and he slumps, looking away from her honest eyes. He wishes he could be that honest with anyone, but he can only admit anything truthful to his dreams and the figments in his mind.

When he doesn’t respond, Connie begins to tear up. “Don’t you want to feel better…for me, at least?”

He places his palm perpendicular on his lips, fingers pressing under the horns on his cheeks, eyebrows furrowing in distress.

“Steven…” His name sounds pained coming out of her mouth.

Steven lets his hands fall away. “It’s not you, Connie. I really care for you so much, and I’d do anything to protect you, but…this time, I can’t.”

“All just because you don’t want to go to the Diamonds? Steven, that's—”

Panic slams back into his chest so fast that he wonders if it ever left at all.

“But, Connie, you don’t understand,” he moves to his knees, grabbing her shoulders probably a bit harder than necessary. “You don’t understand. They’re going to hurt me. They’re going to take all of it away. Everything’s going to be fixed, and then, I’ll just be back to where I started. I don’t want to go back there. It’s too painful. I know it’s my fault, but I can’t handle it.”

Steven knows he probably looks and sounds deranged, especially with how disgusting he looks and how malformed his body has become, but he feels like he can't stop.

“That’s not…why do you…why do you think that _this_—corruption—is the only option? You know that you can talk to people, and you can get help. You don’t have to resort to complete destruction just to get sympathy.”

He lets go of her and presses both hands to his mouth and holds back the sound of distress he doesn’t want her to hear. Tears hang at the edge of his eyelids. He shakes his head.

When the wave of hopelessness passes, he inhales and his hands to back to his knees.

“That’s not it. That’s not it. This isn’t…this isn’t something that will go away, even if the corruption is gone. I can’t change the past or the circumstances of my birth or the pain my existence causes. This is just the easiest way to…” It’s difficult to say, but he needs to. “…The easiest way to go away.”

Her whole body is tensed up, and he can’t tell if she’s angry at him and going to smack him, or sad and going to break down into sobs again. 

“How…” Her sigh has a tinge of frustration to it. “How are any of us supposed to _deal with that?_ If you ‘go away,’ how are we supposed to cope with it? You would feel horrible if anything happened to anyone else, and yet, you think that it would be any different if you got hurt?”

It’s not like he doesn’t know this. It’s not like he hasn’t tossed the idea around his mind over and over again. She can’t understand. No one can understand. He just knows he needs to do this.

“Why can’t you care about yourself the way I care about you, Steven?”

The sentence is soft and pleading, but to Steven, it’s a shot through the heart. His hand grasps his shirt over where his heart should be, (if he still has one anymore). 

“I-I don’t know. I just…can't. I'm sorry, Connie. I really am sorry.”

Connie closes her eyes before sighing heavily and standing up.

“Steven, I love you so, so much. But, one of the things that I have to remind myself is that someone who isn’t ready to get help can’t be helped. I—oh, man—that sounds so harsh. I just mean, I can’t do anything until you decide you want me to. And, I…I need some time to think. I need to figure some things out. I don’t want to make anything worse.”

He stares up at her, bleary-eyed but ultimately resigned.

“I won’t give up on you,”_ s_he gives him one more smile, leans down and gives him a soft kiss. “Please, don’t give up on yourself.”

With that, she turns and walks away, running through the forest like the mythical creature she is.

“Wow, you really fucked that up,” Lapis says. Steven looks up to see her sitting on a tree branch, legs dangling loosely. He can't even be mad at her remark because it's not a taunt. It's just the truth.

“Yeah, I know.”

The worst part is, Steven can’t think of anything Connie could do to change his mind. He knows that it's his fault, but it's still painful.  



	9. Diamond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven spends a lot of time near water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the sorta slow update, folks. i took a two day depression nap instead of doing literally anything else, but we're at a good point to finish this in a few chapers (4 to 6 maybe? depends on what happens i guess), but uh, yeah, to respond to someone in the comments, this will have a happy ending, or at least not a sad ending. i wouldn't let my boy suffer forever lol
> 
> also, i quoted another song in this but I changed the lyrics a lot so its kinda an su remix lol? it's a [luna shadows song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aD0FhZDsusk)

“_Lonely hearts will meet, look me in the eyes, and I’ll believe._”

He’s spending more time inside his head lately. After all, the white room with his mother inside it is the only time he actually feels okay.

Even though he never knew Rose Quartz and has technically never met her, the Rose in Steven’s head is the only person who tells him that it’s okay to rest and okay to take a break. She listens and understands how painful life can be. They commiserate together, and it’s so refreshing to have someone validate all of the little thoughts that feel esoteric or too abstract to put into words with anyone else.

“_Holy, all I ever lost was you…_”

She also sings him songs, and her voice is so beautiful and melodic that it’s sort of like the lullabies that she never sang to him as a baby.

“You’ll always be my baby,” she assures him with a smile. He’s not sure why it’s so nice to hear that, but it is nice. The way she holds him against her chest relieves a tiny bit of pain inside him but not totally since, at the end of the day, this isn’t actually happening.

Steven doesn’t really care. He’ll take what he can get.

“I don’t know why I want this so bad.”

“All humans need comfort. You’ve been so busy supporting everyone that you’ve neglected your own needs.”

“It seems so stupid, though.”

“It’s not, I promise.” She squeezes him, and it feels kind and lovely.

“I’ve grown up only to want to become a kid again,” he frowns.

“I think you’re more wishing for the forgiveness that is awarded to children. And, the attention that being unable to take care of yourself brings. It’s not that you want to be helpless, it’s that you want people to give you affection without having to ask for it.”

“I don’t understand why I can’t ask for it, though.”

“Well, you said it yourself. You have fashioned your identity around being the one that people depend on rather than the other way around. It’s only natural that it would be difficult to allow yourself to be vulnerable in that way. But, the truth is that vulnerability is the greatest strength there is. To allow people to see the most unshielded parts of yourself is what takes the most power.”

“It makes it sound so easy when you say it.”

She giggles. “As is with most things, it’s easier said than done.”

He sighs into her soft chest.

“I don’t want to think anymore. I want to rest now.”

“Go ahead, Steven. I’ll be here for as long as you need me.”

He closes his eyes. Her voice flows through him.

“_What they found in God, I found in you…_”

The rest of the dream stretches out into a blank blur of static.

* * *

He runs through the trees, bounding off the trunks to keep speed. After the physical weakness wore off, Steven found himself able to be more agile than he normally is. He even can control his tail, which is…new. Once he used it to swing all the way around a tree branch (before falling on his face, but he’s sort of new to the five appendages thing).

But, aside from his physical enhancements, his mental state has not so much improved as much as it has gone from being clouded and murky and pricked by anxiety to being flat again. It isn’t so much better as it is less frightening because the anxiety makes him lash out, and now, all he wants to do is hide. He knows he can’t hide forever, but he wants to believe he can, just so he doesn’t completely freak out before he actually needs to.

He gets to the edge of the forest, surprised to see that the land drops off as well. The final band of trees is only a foot or two from a cliff, which is surrounded by water so blue, it rivals the sky.

Steven has to breathe in because it’s been a while since he’s been affected by nature in this way. He’d been so wrapped up in himself that his physical surroundings had gone all but unnoticed. The expanse is also slightly haunting because it stretches on as far as the eye can see, and it makes him feel even more small and helpless than he normally does.

As he approaches the edge, he notices how jagged it is, and how when he runs his foot along it (it strikes him just then that he’d lost his sandals at some point), rocks crumble and fall into the water below.

“I’m not going to let you do that, y’know.”

Steven looks next to him. Lapis is standing there with her arms crossed.

“Do what?” His brain is moving too slow for him to put two and two together.

“I don’t know. You’re standing on the edge of a cliff that drops off into the ocean? What do you think I’m talking about?”

Oh.

Lapis really thinks he’s about to hurl himself off a cliff, huh? Maybe he should have been more cautious in general, but he honestly hadn’t been thinking about it. 

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Pretty bold talk for someone who told their girlfriend that they want to ‘go away.’”

He sighs. Yeah, he said some really awful things to Connie. He feels shame sit on him, and he has to be defensive to cover it up.

“I meant it in the sense of corruption.”

“Because that’s also very healthy and normal.”

The fact that his fingernails are more like claws now makes it a lot more painful when he curls his hands into tight fists.

“Can’t I just look at the ocean without getting a lecture?”

“Sure, you can do whatever, I’m just putting it out there.”

Steven sighs again and sits down. Lapis does the same.

“How did everything get so messed up?” It's a rhetorical question, but Lapis answers anyway.

“Running off into the forest wasn’t the _best_ reaction.”

“I mean, yeah, but it was messed up before that. Everything was falling apart. I know I didn’t stop it, but I also didn’t exactly know how. People kept offering help, but it was never enough.”

Connie’s words echo in his mind—(_You don’t have to resort to complete destruction just to get sympathy._)

“It’s not like I’m trying to be this way. I’m really not. I just can't find the willpower to stop it." It still sounds horrible no matter how he rewords it. "It’s not sympathy I’m looking for. I don’t know what it is.”

(_It feels like there's a hole in my heart._)

“Trauma makes you do a whole host of things that don’t make sense,” Lapis mumbles, her face going somewhat emotionless. “It’s not an excuse, but when everything’s out of control, your responses aren’t exactly going to be rational. Sometimes, you just have to take a long nap and then camp out in a barn for a while.” She smiles, then, the thought of Those Days bringing a pleasant tinge to unpleasant memories. “Or, therapy. Humans probably are better off with therapy.”

Steven glances at his tail which is tucked under his knee. “I don’t think therapy’s going to help me right this second.”

“Yeah, I mean, not while you’re all spikey but eventually. You’ve got to get uncorrupted first.”

“I know. I need to get over myself and just do it.”

There is a large gust of wind, enough so that they’re hit with ocean spray that whips them in the face. The previously calm water is now extremely rough, and Steven gets a sick feeling in his stomach that’s so sticky and hot that he wonders if he’s going to vomit off the edge of the cliff.

“What’s happening?” he asks in a not-so-quiet whisper.

Lapis can’t do anything but shake her head, and he wonders if she also feels that same nausea in her nonexistent stomach.

Unfortunately, that is when a hole breaks through the clouds, and the Diamond’s ship comes into view.

“Oh,_ shit_,” they say simultaneously.

Steven's hair-trigger fight or flight response clicks on, and he doesn’t even realize he’s breathing hard enough to make himself dizzy until Lapis pushes him back and away from the edge, and he hits the base of a tree. His head rings for a second, but then, her hands are gripping at his shoulders, and the spinning in his head instantly stops.

“Steven, calm down.” Her eyes are blown wide open, and in the moment, he can tell that she’s just as freaked out as he is, but she isn’t corrupted and slammed into a headspace without her consent. “I know. They’re scary. I get it. I’m terrified of them, too. But, remember what you said a few seconds ago?”

A few seconds ago? His brain can’t think of anything other than this moment.

“You need to get over yourself. They’re here to help you. The worst thing you can do is hide from them.”

She’s serious, more serious than she’s been this whole time in the woods.

A few tears flee down Steven’s cheeks, but he rubs them away and nods. Lapis takes him into a tight hug.

“It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay. But, everyone’s worried. I know you can do it. You’re the strongest person I know, Steven.”

(_But, the truth is that vulnerability is the greatest strength there is. To allow people to see the most unshielded parts of yourself is what takes the most power._)

“Thanks, Lapis. For everything.”

She pulls away and gives him a thumbs up. “No prob, Bob.” They both can’t help but giggle.

It’s then that Garnet bursts out of the woods right next to them. Their heads snap upward in shock. There is an elongated moment where Garnet is certainly unnerved by how severe Steven’s corruption has become, but she snaps out of it and crouches down to get to their eye level.

“Steven, I know you already know the Diamonds are here. Is it okay if I take you to them? They’re not going to hurt you.”

“...Yeah. It’s—it's fine,” he says even though every part of him screams that it’s absolutely not fine.

Garnet turns her attention to the other gem.

“Would you like to come with us?”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Peridot hasn’t seen me in forever, and she’s probably driving Bismuth crazy,” she smiles, but it’s a bitter smile. “Also, I hate the Diamonds.”

“Understandable,” Garnet says. “Thank you for everything.”

“Anytime.” Her water wings sprout out of her back, and she shoots up into the sky. “Good luck, Steven!”

“Bye, Lapis.”

She waves and speeds away over the expanse of trees.

* * *

Steven tries his hardest to keep his head on his shoulders as Garnet carries him through the thickets, but the unfortunate thing about corruption is that it’s decidedly impossible to tell his brain what to do even when he’s honestly trying his best.

(His mind goes back to the time on the beach—Garnet flying up the stairs—Her fearful eyes—Her gaze turned away and hidden under her visor—)

He groans because it’s painful. The amount he’s hurt all the people around him is sharp like a dagger in his chest. 

(_I can’t make excuses anymore._)

(And, yet, you spiral around your own self-hatred, letting people down because you can only think about yourself.)

(_I’m not trying to! I’m trying to be better for them, but something won’t let go. I don’t know what it is. Please don’t blame me._)

There’s so much guilt/blame/fault/fault/fault.

(But, the reality is that you’re responsible for your own behavior. Just because you’re hurt doesn’t mean you can take it out on others.)

(_I know! Please, I know. I don’t know what to do. I’m trying my best._)

(Your best isn’t good enough.)

(_I know._)

“Steven?”

He’s shaking in her grip now, and it’s not the fear of the Diamonds that’s doing it to him. It’s his own diatribe that tosses and turns and messes up the fragile structure of his mind.

“I’m trying my best, Garnet,” he shutters into her chest. “I know ‘sorry’ isn’t enough, but I’m so mixed up. I don’t know what to do.”

Garnet doesn’t know how to respond to that statement, but her mouth twists up a bit as she’s thinking.

“We’ll talk about apologies when this is all over.”

The statement simultaneously makes him feel better and makes him feel worse. But, with Garnet’s permission, he pushes all of his guilt to the side in a box that will burst open at a later date. Hopefully, when he’s not corrupted, it will be easier to open. Whenever that’ll be.

Paranoia of a different sort lingers within him, though. He doesn’t know why he thinks this, but he doesn’t think that the Diamonds can heal him.

(_Someone who isn’t ready to get help can’t be helped._)

He wants help for the sake of other people—to not seem selfish and awful—but for himself, he can’t muster the forgiveness to want to be healed. And, if the Diamonds can’t help him, who can?

(You can only help yourself.)

Steven rubs his eyes, doing his best to not scratch his eyes out.

* * *

The beach looks so small when the Diamond’s ship is parked next to it. It dwarves the temple, as do the Diamonds themselves. Well, Blue and Yellow are about as tall as the Beach House, and White is a few heads taller—big heads, specifically.

As Garnet approaches, they’re crouched on the shore, listening to Pearl explain something. All of them have troubled expressions. Steven notices that Greg and Connie are also there, and he internally groans because he doesn’t want his father to see how bad he’s gotten, even if he knows it’s not going change how he feels about him. It’s just the shame. It permeates every part of his body and is part of the reason why his body is painted in various shades of pink.

White sees him first, but she can’t see him clearly enough to notice his deformities. She claps her hands together (which is a very loud noise that makes him flinch), and coos, “Steven!”

The other two look excitedly over, but now that Garnet is closer, all of their faces devolve into horror and vague disgust.

“Oh, Stars!” Blue gasps.

Yellow cringes, “So, this is what you meant.”

When Garnet gets in front of the Diamonds and sets him down, they all dip their heads down near the sand.

“Steven,” White begins cautiously, “since when did you become so hideous?”

Blue shoots her a look. 

“It’s like that Nephrite soldier. When corrupted, she looked like a…worm or some other _organic creature_,” Yellow explains with repugnance. Of course, White had not been there, but it’s enough for a small flash of embarrassment to cross her eyes. 

On his knees, Steven barely has the strength to look up at their giant eyes, not because he’s physically weak but because he’s not fully accepted that he’s allowed himself to be in the presence of gems who put him on a pedestal he doesn’t deserve while in the state he’s in.

When he finally works up the energy, he is taken aback by just how _big_ they are. It’s not like he forgot, it’s just shocking every time.

“That’s why we’re here,” Blue says softly to White before turning her attention back to Steven. “What happened, my dear?”

Steven clears his throat. He’s never been so put on the spot while so compromised. The eyes of everyone he cares so deeply about and the eyes that care so much about him bore down on him. It makes him feel like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin, leave nothing but the emotionless pink part of himself that is glued to the inside of his human body.

“It’s—uh, I guess I’m…sad?” he shrugs. How is he supposed to summarize thousands of emotions and awful experiences in a couple of words, a couple of sentences? He can barely describe to himself what’s wrong let alone celestial gods who have a very slim idea of what empathy feels like.

“Can being sad corrupt someone?” Blue asks Yellow as if she knows anything about corruption that she doesn’t. In fact, Steven is probably the one that knows the most about the whole thing, but he’s at just as much of a loss. 

“If that were the case, you would have corrupted millennia ago.”

“Hmmm…”

White interrupts the whole conversation with her booming yet musical voice. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? We’ll just do what we did before.”

Pearl steps forward. “It is a bit different in that we can’t use Rose’s fountain. We’ve already tried to use the Pink Diamond gem to heal him, but it didn’t work.” She doesn’t say that it might have made things worse.

“We can still try, can’t we?” Blue pleads.

The Crystal Gems look at each other but don’t argue. Steven looks back down his knees.

* * *

It hadn’t been too long since they’d been there, and for Steven, it feels like it could have been yesterday, a week ago, or tomorrow.

Seeing Rose’s statues again hurts in the same way it always does, but the time he’s been spending with her in his mind makes it feel a little less devastating when he steps into the warm pink water.

All of the Diamonds look at each other. Clearly, they are out of their depth without Steven to tell them what to do. So, they improvise, sitting around the tiny body that floats in the water. They sit in a pseudo-triangle formation, White at the peak and Blue and Yellow on either side. Locking hands, they close their eyes and try to channel their love for Pink, their love for Steven into the fountain.

Steven breathes out and sinks underwater, keeping his mind clear of any negative thoughts. If he couldn’t be happy, he could at least be blank. Maybe Rose’s fountain felt a little different now, a little more viscous, a little more stimulating. His skin and horns and spikes tingle.

Maybe this will actually work?

He breathes out even more oxygen to make sure he’ll keep sinking instead of floating back to the top.

(“_Angels looking at me, stare into the pale blue skies—all it ever cost was you._”)

He opens his eyes, and he sees his mother as clear as day, as if she’s actually there in front of him.

(“_Savior, how do they breathe?_”)

She embraces him, and there’s finally stillness in the water. The pink tones caress his skin, paint his insides with something else entirely.

(“_Filling up with water as they inhale deep._”)

“Mom, what can I do to make it all better?” he asks pleadingly, looking up to her closed eyes.

(“_Like faith, it fades with mourning_.”)

She opens them slowly, but the way they look past him tells Steven that this is not real, just like every vision of her he’s ever had. One second, she’s there, and the next second, she’s gone.

He lays on the bottom of the fountain and looks up at the arms that form a triangle above him. In the water, they look blurry and move as the water is agitated. A groan leaves his lips, but it only comes out as bubbles.

Something doesn’t feel right. It’s not like the water doesn’t feel good, but his skin doesn’t feel like it’s being healed so much as shuffled around. He holds his arm above his head and looks at his hand like he had so many times before. The shuffling feeling happens again, and he—

He’s glitching.

That’s when reality crashes back down on him, and it’s apparent that he’s paralyzed in the water with no air in his lungs. Without Pink, there’s no way to fix the psychological tear inside him, and the force of the other Diamond’s powers isn’t compatible with the reality of his body. Yellow can fix him physically, Blue can settle him emotionally, and White can hold it all together, but what happens when you hold together a corruption that's not fully healed?

(The _Bad Part_ of his mind tells him to just stay there because then he’ll be dead, and it wouldn’t be his fault.)

The edges of his vision dim, but he still sees the triangle break apart above him, and a huge hand scoops him up and water rushes all around him.

…

Steven finds himself tumbling out of White’s giant hands and splaying on the ground. He coughs and coughs, but it feels like his lungs have seized and only water can get in and out of him. There are words of people all around him, but he’s just trying to get his mind shoved back into his body, to get air back into his lungs.

It’s too much, and his brain doesn’t have enough oxygen, so his vision dims and he doesn’t know what happens next.


	10. Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Steven can't be admitted to a hospital or any other normal human facility, the Gems will just have to improvise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if i get any setting descriptions wrong, im sorry, im not as familiar with season 5 as the others bc it's not on hulu and i need me that autoplay, you feel me?
> 
> also i love pink bc shes such a fucking brat, but that said, fuck pink

He’s on a hard floor. He groans but can’t open his eyes. He’s nauseous but in a way that he’s only felt a few times in his life.

There are voices around him.

“Do you think he’s dead?” says someone soft-spoken, her words just slightly gravely under her high pitched tone.

“No, he’s obviously breathing.” This voice is louder, more bombastic, and acts like the question is very stupid.

“Oh.”

“He’s just _pink!_” This is someone different, now. She somehow pops the ‘p’ at the beginning of ‘pink,’ and her tone is very jovial considering the other’s concerns. She snickers, “It looks good on him.”

“_Oh_, you three. Please leave him alone. He’s trying to rest.” He recognizes this voice. It’s Pearl’s.

“We’re just worried about him!”

“You can be worried quieter. Now hush.”

* * *

“He’s obviously a danger to himself.”

Steven can’t move for some reason. He’s not awake, but he can hear. He can feel people and bodies around him and outside.

“Yes, but it’s not exactly a situation where we can admit him to a hospital. And, Lapis has already done enough for us, as it is.”

“Do you think keeping him somewhere is gonna help or make it worse?”

“I’m not sure what the best course of action would be.”

There is a large sigh that is stronger than the wind blowing outside. “Why do humans have to be so complicated?”

“They can grow and change. That was what Rose wanted…”

The people sitting next to him begin to discuss among themselves.

“Do you think he meant to do it? Or, was it an accident?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. There’s so much complicating everything. I don’t like to think that it was…intentional, but the way he’s been acting lately…”

“I want to think it’s because of the corruption, but…I don’t think his feelings are so much caused by it so much as amplified.”

“That’s a good point.” A sigh. “I wish I could have been there for him more before it got to this point.”

“I think we all feel that way, Mr. Universe. You did the best you could.”

* * *

His eyes finally open. The room is very dark and cold. He has a blanket around his shoulders, but it feels way thinner than he remembers any of his blankets being before.

“…Huh?”

“Oh, Steven, you’re awake.” Pearl is whispering even though she doesn’t have to. She’s sitting next to him, back pressed against the wall, legs bent up to her chest. She doesn’t look frightened so much as embarrassed.

“Pearl…what’s going on?” He can’t get his mind to move any faster than a snail’s pace. When he sits up, he has to press a hand to his face to get his head to stop swimming. 

“We thought that maybe—” she laughs nervously, “—maybe a change of scenery might help you.”

He looks up the ceiling which seems like it goes on forever. When he looks down, he notices his hands don’t have claws anymore, but he still is pink.

“What scenery are we changing to?”

“Well…”

* * *

“Honestly, maybe he’s spending too much time among humans,” White huffs, examining her immaculate black nails.

“I don’t think that’s the problem,” Garnet says. Her gaze looks back through the screen door and sees Little Pink Steven wrapped in a blanket, shivering even though it’s not cold.

“But, you don’t know _what_ the problem is? Do you?” Her humongous eyes are expectant and calculating. Even if she is no longer the ruler of an intergalactic empire, she at least still has the aura of a disappointed great-aunt.

“No,” she admits miserably, at least as far as Garnet goes.

“All I’m suggesting is that he spend some time in the Palace. We have many unused rooms, which are very spacious and luxurious. He could be protected and have time to rest. It’s not like you wouldn’t be able to see him.” She shrugs. “It’s only a warp point away.”

Pearl, Amethyst, and Garnet all share a wary look. They know this seems like A Bad Idea, but it also makes a lot of logical sense, especially considering there is a lot less that could happen to him in a literal space fortress. But, removing him from his home? From his support network? 

(Although, hadn’t he already tried to do that himself?)

Pearl turns around and calls, “Greg, Connie? Can you come here for a second?”

They look up, look at each other, look at Steven, and then back again. When they join the rest of the Gems on the balcony, they look even more nervous in front of the Diamonds than the others do.

Pearl frowns. “White Diamond is suggesting he stay at the Palace. To rest and have a more protective atmosphere—”

“What?”

“—since he can’t be admitted to a hospital.”

Connie’s eyebrows tense as she thinks, but Greg speaks up before her.

“Is it really a good idea for him to go into space again? Every time it happens, it feels like he comes back a little unnerved, to say the least.”

“I promise, we’re not here to press him. This is not a diplomatic mission. We simply want to give him space to have time for himself. Isn’t that right, Blue? Yellow?”

Blue and Yellow nod, but—speaking of unnerved—they look very much so. The incident at the fountain probably still heavily weighs on their minds.

Connie finally speaks up. “I know that this plan sounds crazy, but also—I think there’s something to be said about having a place he can go that’s away from us. I know he’s not in his right mind, but the last time I talked to him, he seemed very adamant about not wanting to be seen this way. And, I know isolation isn’t normally seen as a good thing, but when humans normally get this way, they’re usually admitted to a psych ward, which is a strange place where you’re taken care of by people that you don’t necessarily know, but they want what’s best for you. And, they can see their family if they want. I don’t know if it’s completely analogous, but if this is the place where he got sick, maybe he does need some time away from it.”

The Gems and Greg look at her, and they look very sad, but no one can come up with a reason to refute her reasoning.

“Good! It’s decided, then!” White says, clapping her hands.

“Wait!” Pearl interjects. “Sorry. I’m not necessarily against this, but I think one of us should be with him. And, I think I should be the one to go because I’m the most familiar with the Palace. I wouldn’t spend all my time with him because that defeats the purpose of this exercise, but being completely separated from everything you know can be just as traumatic as staying in an unhealthy space.”

They nod.

The Diamonds look at each other. Pearl knows that they’re thinking, ‘Ah, so the Pearl is always loyal to her Diamond,’ but she’ll let them think whatever they want as long as she can protect Steven.

“I see no problem with that,” Yellow says, a hand on her chin contemplatively.

“Yes, whatever will make Steven the most comfortable,” Blue concurs. 

“Perfect.” White smiles. It never fails to send a chill down her physical form.

* * *

“I’m gonna stay here?” Steven asks, the information not quite setting it all the way.

“Well, not here,” Pearl explains, her eyes trailing each corner of the chamber. “We’re still on the ship, but yes, we’ll be spending some time on Homeworld. But, you can request visitors whenever you want, and anyone can visit as long as you want to see them.”

It’s then that he notices the window in the room, and sure enough, stars fly by much faster than would be possible without warp capabilities.

He scoots closer to Pearl and puts his head on her shoulder. This is the most he’s voluntarily moved since The Fountain Incident, mostly because this is the most conscious he’s been since. His whole body hurts, especially his chest and ribs, either from hacking up water or from whatever life-saving measures they had to implement at the time. 

Even though he’s been out of commission for way too long, he still feels so tired and so cold. He asks Pearl to put an arm around him, and she obliges. She’s not warm like the image of his mother is, but the embrace is warmer than lying on the floor even though she doesn’t technically emit body heat.

This whole situation should scare him way more than it does, but he’s kind of used to that feeling by now. Pretty much any scrap of self-preservation has been thrown to the wind, and he's been left with the urge to follow each self-destructive tendency that comes his way. Losing all control of his life feels more comfortable than sitting in his own malaise, which is just boring at this point. If he sits too long with himself, he’s going to claw his eyes out—well, he would if he still had his claws, anyway.

Geez, everything he thinks sounds so bad. It brings up all of his shame even though there’s no one but his own mind to judge him for it. It’s been a part of him for so long now that he doesn’t know how not to fall back on it, which sucks because he’s pretty sure that shame has a lot to do with why he can’t shed his sadness and let people in.

“I’m so tired,” he mumbles.

“I know, Steven. We still have a while, so you have time to sleep.”

* * *

Pearl stands in the kitchen and rubs her eyes.

“I don’t know if I’m making the right decision.”

“None of us do, Pearl,” Greg sighs. “Try not to beat yourself up over it.”

Garnet is by the couch. She lifts the child still bundled in his blanket and looks down at him as if he actually is a small infant that could easily be broken if held wrong.

“This is part of what raising a child like Steven entails,” she says. “We might never know exactly what’s best for him.” When she turns back to them, her visor is off, but instead of looking sad, she looks steadfast, like she’s committed to this whether or not she personally believes it’s the right choice.

“I know, I just—”

Garnet walks over and places Steven in her arms.

“All we can do is try.”

Her visor is back on with a flash.

Pearl takes a deep breath and nods. When she peers down at Steven’s face, she notices that he’s not in a peaceful sleep but more of a fitful one. He isn’t moving or thrashing, but his eyes move and his face twitches, almost like he’s battling against something inside him. She admonishes herself for being dramatic, considering she knows that these are characteristics of normal REM sleep. It’s just that everything is making her nervous right now, and she just wishes with all of her gem that Steven will be alright.

They walk out together and see that the Diamonds are standing next to their ship. Yellow and Blue are talking amongst themselves, but White is waving to them.

“Yoo-hoo! Are you two ready?”

Amethyst and Connie are still standing on the landing. The gem says, “She really grinds my gears,” to the human, who only frowns.

“It’s okay, Amethyst,” Pearl says, which makes the two of them turn around and see the sordid sight of Pearl with Steven in her arms, Garnet and Greg on either side of her.

Connie takes a step towards them, her frown going beyond discontent and into solemn sadness.

“You’ll let us know when we can see him, right?”

“Of course. As soon as I can, I will.”

She places a hand on his curly hair, and it doesn’t do much to combat the idea that he seems like a baby. “Bye, Steven. It won’t be long.” She says it like he can hear her, and maybe he can.

Amethyst does the same. “Yeah, we’ll see you soon, big guy.”

Greg and Garnet give their best wishes to Pearl, give a silent farewell to the boy, and she's walking down toward the ship. The time it takes to get from the steps to the Diamonds feels like an eternity.

Once Pearl is close enough to the fingers lying on the beach, she takes one look back at her friends—his family. They wave and shout variations of ‘goodbye’ before she is enveloped by an orb and rolled into the opening of the Blue Hand's palm.

* * *

“Steven? We’re here.”

When he opens his eyes, he notices that in the tiny window of the room, the stars of outer space have been replaced with the bright colors of the Homeworld horizon. He feels something akin to nervousness twinge in his chest, but it’s not like he’s scared. It’s just that more bad things than good have happened here.

The sky is a very pretty shade of pink, though.

Pearl leads him through the ship, and he can’t help but think that it’s disturbing similar to the one that Jasper and Peridot trapped them on all that time ago. He can’t also help but think it’s funny how far they’d come. He didn’t know who the Diamonds even were, and now, they’re sort of like distant relatives who love him just for being part of the family. It’s sort of nice because, besides Uncle Andy, he never really knew any of his extended family. Sure, his idea of an extended family is now a group of semi-malevolent space gods, but he’ll take what he can get.

Once they’re off the ship, they walk through hallways that are familiar but just barely. He’d only seen them a few times before, and every time he’d been on Homeworld, everything went so fast and was such a blur that he didn’t really have time to even think of looking around. It doesn’t really matter though. Everything is so cold and clinical, so utilitarian. It is wholly unlike his life with the Crystal Gems, but considering Pearl’s explanation of events prior, there’s a good reason for that.

When they reach the main throne room, the Diamonds are already loitering around and talking to smaller gems, presumably to make preparations for his stay.

White sees the two of them and makes an excited sound.

“Oh, Steven!” She sinks to her knees and picks him up in her two hands. Pearl begins to say something in protest, but she’s quickly interrupted. “It’s so nice to see you up and walking around. You sure gave us quite a scare.”

Yellow and Blue look up from their respective activities and try to look hopeful, but they just look uncomfortable and sad. It’s almost like they’re aware that White has not quite grasped the monumentality of the situation—not that they have much of an idea in human terms either, but the idea of losing Pink again has rattled them far more than they had expected.

“Aha, sorry about that,” Steven says nervously. “All of that was kind of an accident.” It’s the truth but not the whole truth. He just doesn’t really want to get into it right now with someone he doesn’t _fully_ trust or understand.

“Yes, I figured as much.” She sets him back down before standing up and looking behind her. “Pearl? What’s the status of the preparations?”

Pearl jumps before realizing that she’s not talking to her but Pink Pearl instead. The fractured gem appears from seemingly nowhere.

“Human amenities are not 100% complete. However, the room is fully functional and appropriate for habitability.”

“Excellent. Show Steven his room,” White waves her off. “If you need anything just let My Pearl know.”

Steven freezes as Pink Pearl is suddenly right next to him. “Right this way, My Diamond.”

Another thing about Homeworld he isn't too fond of is that it reminds him that he is technically a member of royalty even though he certainly does not feel like one.

“Uh, I’m not your diamond. I’m Steven.”

“Certainly,” she says with an uncannily bright smile. “Right this way, My Steven.”

Ugh. Close enough.

Another familiar-unfamiliar corridor. Pearl walks quietly next to him, but her footsteps are quick and nervous. She probably doesn’t feel truly comfortable in the Palace either, but at least she knows the layout and the cast members. It’s better than having Garnet or Amethyst who were enemies of Homeworld before they even had a chance to see such a place. Well, Sapphire might have, but—

“Here is your room, My Steven.”

A large door stands before them. It’s certainly big enough for a Diamond. He feels very small as the pressurized doors open and reveal an equally big room.

Pearl and Steven are obviously taken aback by it. It’s enormous and the ceilings reach up unnecessarily high. The floor is entirely made out of cushions, and in the middle is a terminal of sorts, not unlike ones seen on the Moon Bases.

Pink Pearl begins explaining as she leads them into the room, “This used to be a strategic meeting area for the Diamonds and other high-ranking officials. Although it has not been utilized for a few thousand years, it’s a very prestigious room in the Palace. Only the best for My Steven.”

Steven doesn’t know what to say to that, so he nervously laughs and says, “Er, thanks?”

“Now, I will take my leave. However, if there is anything I can do for you, please do not hesitate to page one of us Pearls. We will be happy to accommodate.”

She gives a Diamond Salute before turning and removing herself from the room with a swish of the doors.

Steven and Pearl stare at each other for a second or two, both completely overwhelmed by the entirety of the past few minutes. At that moment, they are glad to have each other because—man, the Diamonds are something else.

The first thing Steven thinks to say is, “Have you been here before, Pearl?”

She begins to walk farther into the room. He notices that there are expansive windows that are covered up by thick curtains, supposedly for use during particularly top-secret meetings or when the projector is in use. 

“Oh, yes. Most of Pink’s strategy meetings used to be held here, but I assume once they believed she was shattered, they discontinued use of it.” She makes her way to the module and enters a code, which causes a small holographic panel to pop up. With a few button presses, the curtains open up and bright pink light floods the room.

Steven has to shield his eyes for a few seconds, but once they adjust, he’s taken aback by how—well—beautiful the view is. It’s expansive. Maybe he can see the whole planet from here (not really, but it feels that way).

Pearl lets out a tired laugh. “This would be nostalgic if anything looked the same.” She shakes her head and turns back. “Also, the cushions are new. I don’t think the Diamonds have much of concept of what rooms on Earth look like.”

“It’s kinda nice,” Steven says, jumping on one and expecting to float, but he doesn’t and just hops to another like any other regular kid. He doesn’t admit to himself that it’s disappointing because he had predicted this would happen a few weeks ago. “At least, it won’t be uncomfortable.”

“True.” Pearl begins playing around with other buttons. A compartment of the wall pops out to reveal a myriad of blankets. She laughs. “I think White saw you with your blanket and assumed you especially liked them.”

“I guess I won’t be cold either.”

He goes over to Pearl and hugs her, his blanket falling to the floor. With his head pressing against her back, he mumbles, “Thanks for looking after me, Pearl. I’m not sure if I deserve it after everything.”

“Oh, Steven—” she turns around and kneels to look him in the eye. “—please don’t worry about that. This whole situation is…complicated. And, no one knows what they’re doing. Once everything gets sorted out, we’ll talk about it. But, don’t feel sorry for needing help. Please.” She brushes a stray curl out of his face and smiles.

The only thing Steven can think to do is throw his arms around her once again, and Pearl makes a surprised noise before returning the embrace.

When they pull apart, Pearl gives him another doting smile.

“Will you be alright if I leave for a second? I’m supposed to tell the others that we got here safely.”

The thought dawns on him: “Why didn’t we just warp here ourselves?”

Pearl looks a little uncomfortable. “White Diamond is…particular. I think she wanted to give you the whole ‘Homeworld Experience.’”

Steven’s hell brain spits out, (_White Diamond flexing on the Earthlings, huh?_) but decides not to say that out loud because Pearl wouldn’t quite understand what he means.

“That sounds like her.”

“Yes, well, she is a—character, to say the least.”

He sighs. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I need to rest, anyway. Space lag and all.”

“Remember to use all twenty-six blankets lest you catch a cold,” Pearl giggles.

“Yeah, duh.”

“Alright,” she stands up and turns back to the module. “Do you want the curtains closed?”

“Nah, I kind of like the light.”

“Okay,” she shuts the terminal down. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I’ll be here,” he shoots a thumbs up.

Once Pearl leaves the room, he grabs one of the blankets (not only are they numerous, but they’re heavy, too), and finds a slightly angled cushion against one of the walls. When he lays down, he notices that there are skylights on the ceiling. Even though it’s still light out, beyond the pink sky, he can see a plethora of stars—so many galaxies, he can’t even begin to fathom how many there are.

This might not be so bad. After all, being in a room full of cushions sure beats sleeping on the dirty forest floor.

* * *

He looks out the window. He’s angry.

“I don’t want to have another one of these awful meetings. They’re so _boring._”

“You’re the one who wanted a colony.”

He turns around and sees Blue and Yellow sitting around a projection of the Earth. There are various dotted lines and Xs designating landing sites, troop advances, Kindergartens. He shoots the other Diamonds a look, one that only they can tell is annoyed and petulant.

“No one told me a colony meant thousands of droning meetings.”

Yellow is also annoyed and petulant. “You’ve seen the both of us carry out hundreds of military campaigns. If you paid attention, you may have possibly understood the responsibility of carrying them out yourself.”

He turns away. “Maybe if you didn’t lock me in a tower every time you were mad at me, I would have been better prepared.”

This gets under Yellow’s skin, maybe because he's right. She stands so she can loom over him and look menacing.

“I do not understand why you must make every part of this _so difficult!_ We are doing you a favor! Maybe if you weren’t so ungrateful—”

Blue also stands up, her hands slamming on the projected round table. “Enough. You two will _behave_—”

They ignore her. Blue’s a bit of a pushover, after all.

“—Oh, I’m the ungrateful one?”

“Yes, you are!”

“Maybe you should be more thankful that I continuously attend these meetings that I could not give a single _fuck_ about—”

The other two diamonds gasp. They don’t know what ‘fuck’ means, but they know it’s an Earth word, and they know it sounds like hate.

“Where in Stars did you learn such a hideous word?” Yellow spats, walking closer. “Why would you even know it?”

“Because _I_ actually pay attention when I’m invading a planet. I know a bunch of other words, too. Do you want to hear them?” He feels himself get a lopsided smile on his face, eyes wide enough to scare anyone out of their wits.

Except Yellow, of course.

There is silence. Nobody moves.

“Get out.”

“What?”

“I said, _Get out!_”

He doesn’t need to be escorted. He runs out the door shouting, “_Fine!_” 

And, when he hears the doors slam shut behind him, he lets out a harrowing scream that could shatter a thousand gems.

* * *

Steven shoots up from his cushion-blanket cocoon and can’t even scream because he doesn’t have the breath to do so. His lungs probably haven't fully recovered, he realizes then. 

“O-Oh, I’m so sorry for intruding.”

The tiny voice surprises him, and his head snaps up, panting as he comes face to face with a small blue gem.

She skitters backward like a frightened animal, shaking as she sits there. Her arm is positioned in front of her face as if she’s expected a violent advance, and her other is behind her, bracing herself on the cushions so she doesn’t fall backward.

It takes him a second to realize that it’s only Blue Pearl.

“S-Sorry—no, it’s not you—” Man, breathing is hard. “I had a bad dream, it’s not you.” 

Finally, she relaxes and resumes her proper position on her knees. With a salute and a bow of the head, she says, “I am sorry for appearing unannounced. I was ordered by My Diamond to ask how you are finding the room.”

“Oh,” he relaxes, too, shoulders slumping a bit, eyes drooping from the previous lethargy now that the adrenaline has died down some. “Did she design it?”

Her hands go to her lap. “Oh, no. I was in charge of it. I was simply ordered to make it…comfortable.”

“Hence the cushions?”

“Yes.” A small smile appears on her face. “Pearls have rest stations, but they’re very hard and ‘un-comfortable.’ I figured that this would be better suited for a human hybrid.”

He jumps. It’s not every day that he’s referred to as a hybrid.

“Well, it’s nice. I really like it.”

“Excellent.” Blue Pearl stands and curtsies, her skirt in each hand. “I shall report back to My Diamond immediately.” 

She turns to leave, but the remainder of the flutter in his chest makes him stop her.

“Wait, Blue Pearl?”

She looks over her shoulder before repositioning herself with her hands clasped in front of her skirt and her feet in first position.

“Yes?”

He looks down at the soft floor, mulling over what exactly he wants to say.

“Did you…know Pink Diamond?”

“Yes, of course,” she smiles. 

“What—what was she like?”

Blue Pearl silently ponders the question for a few moments before responding. “She was very nice and very silly. She loved to play with us. I always enjoyed when she’d visit.”

“How did she get along with the other Diamonds?”

Her small, wistful smile falls away, and she does a little pseudo-_relevé_. It looks like a nervous tick.

“Oh. Well, Yellow and Pink Diamond disagreed on many things. My Diamond was very close with her but did have a few misgivings now and again.”

“Is there anything else?”

“I’m afraid I’m not allowed to discuss any confidential matters.”

Steven sighs, disappointed. “Okay, thanks for your help.”

She smiles, curtsies once again, and rushes out of the room, supposedly so Steven can’t ask anymore probing questions.

With another sigh, this one heavier than the first, he flops back on the cushion and pulls up the blanket to his chin before rolling to the side.

He’ll eventually get used to being on Homeworld, he’s sure of that, but Steven is even more sure that living in the same palace as Pink Diamond had will turn into a teeny-tiny-huge problem.


	11. Stressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven tries to clear the air with Connie, even though there's still a part of him that Isn't Right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeesh, sorry this took so long guys, the holidays make things harder than they have to be. this chapter turned out to be more set up than anything else, but that's only because when i was plotting, the stuff i wanted to add would make the chapter way too long, but that means next chapter is going to move the story along quite a bit. it's already all plotted out, I just have to write it. also, i think i know what i want to do at the conclusion of the fic, so. the only thing is that i won't make the dec 7th deadline, but hopefully, y'all will stick with me as my fic becomes dreadfully noncanonical 
> 
> if it takes me a while to write the next chapter, i'll probably say so on my tumblr which is lifeiskorrasami so yeah, hope this holds you over until then sowwy unu

Steven watches the stars shift throughout the night. Pink light is replaced with a darkness so opaque that he feels more smothered by it than the actual blankets smothering him.

Due to the time shift between Earth and Homeworld, it’s very late when Pearl warps back to let everyone know they arrived safely, so they collectively decide to visit Steven the next day. Pearl comes back to check on him, but since he says he’s fine, she goes somewhere else in the Palace to give him time to sleep.

As much as Steven is tired, the new environment and its eerie pseudo-familiarity is making it hard to sleep steadily. And, considering the space lag, he has no idea if his nocturnal behavior is contributing to this. He’s anxious about the Diamonds, seeing his friends, disappointing everyone yet again.

He sighs. A change of scenery does not an anti-depressant make.

On the ship, he’d been freezing, which is why he’s covered in two or three blankets now, but the room temperature feels like it’s shifting around. Maybe it is, or maybe it’s just him.

(He’s reminded of when he first started falling ill, either sleeping all the time or barely sleeping at all. The blankets make him hot, so he tosses them off, and then, he gets cold again, and so he has to huddle back under them until the cycle repeats. This time, though, if he actually is getting sick again, he’s not going to advertise it because hasn’t he done enough already?)

All he’s done has turned into this, a prisoner in a castle with just enough freewill to project the illusion of control over the truth. And, the truth is, they’ve put him here because he’s suicidal.

It’s not like he’s looking for ways to die, it’s just that he doesn’t really care if he does or not. It’s casual suicidality. That’s why the fountain was such a good opportunity. He hadn’t planned on killing himself, but he was in a position where he _could_ _have_.

(Maybe it would have been better if he did.)

But, his friends and family care too much. They saved him. And, he is thankful for their kindness, he really is. It’s just that it feels like stringing them along before an inevitable conclusion.

(When there’s nothing to fear and no one to fight, how can he justify his existence when it brings nothing but pain?)

Lonely isn’t the correct word to describe how he’s feeling because he’s not exactly lonely, especially since he knows he could get Pearl to spend time with him if he really wanted her to, but he feels hollow, lost, melancholy. It’s the distance between himself and the rest of the world, the distance he put there intentionally. Close off from others. Numb emotions for others. Soon, there’s nothing left except the urge to be gone.

Steven sits up and puts his head in his hands. His mind is going out of control again, just like when he was in a more severely corrupted state. Another headache, another flutter of butterfly wings in his chest, another reminder that (THIS ISN’T RIGHT).

Obviously, the Diamond’s powers had done something to help him considering he isn’t literally crazy anymore, and besides the pink coloration of his skin, the physical manifestations of his corruption have gone away, but there is something that still isn’t right. He knew that it would be the case, but the actual feeling of being haphazardly forced and bonded together is much, much more uncomfortable than he had previously anticipated.

Steven feels like he has actual seams now. He could take scissors and cut every one of them, tear himself open like the stuffed animals on his bedroom floor. Or, he could let the pressure build up until his physical form explodes and disintegrates into nothing

He shakes his head, grips his hair. 

(_Stop, stop, stop. I don’t want to think like this. It’s already getting bad again, and everyone is going to worry and hurt, and I can’t control it._)

Ever since his talk with Connie, Steven has made a conscious effort to not actively want to be worse, but he’s finding that it might have been a coping mechanism because it’s a lot scarier to say he doesn’t want it and for it to happen anyway. His mind was just protecting itself, and he let himself believe it was a moral flaw in himself rather than the only thing keeping him from going totally mental.

He knows this, and he feels himself shaking, and he puts his arms around his abdomen because it feels like he’s going to be sick, like he’s going to mutate again, but with a final shutter, the sensation passes. It’s possible that due to Yellow’s and White’s powers, he _can’t_ physically corrupt anymore.

(But, what happens when the tear in his mind gets tugged too hard and White’s glue unsticks?)

The idea makes him shake in a different way, and he resigns to the fact that he’s not going to get much sleep tonight.

* * *

He hears her before she can even open the door.

“Oh, Starlight!”

White’s call is more like a song, melodic and truly adoring, but because it wakes Steven out of his barely asleep slumber, she just functions as a sentient alarm clock. He sits up slowly and rubs his eyes.

“Huh?”

She floats into the room, her dress fluttering in a breeze that does not actually exist. Steven absently wonders if it operates under its own laws of physics.

“Can’t a Gem wish another ‘good morning’?”

Steven’s depressed, tired brain spits out, ‘no,’ but he keeps it to himself.

“Sure,” he says, looking at her with an obviously disinterested expression. She obviously ignores it.

“It’s a new day, a new sunrise—look!” In a second, she’s made her way over to him, and to his dismay, he’s being picked up in her enormous hands, blankets and all, and she lifts him up so he’s only a foot or so from the skylight. “Stars that shine for you, my dear.”

The morning stars glitter against a yellow and orange sky, and it is very beautiful, but he’s only running on one brain cell, and it hasn’t exactly had time to wake up.

“Ahaha, they’re sure…something.”

Her eye is as big as his body (if not bigger), and it closes when she presses him to her cheek.

“Everything on Homeworld shines brighter when you’re on its surface.”

This sort of doting isn’t something he’s used to because he doesn’t get it from anyone, not even the people who love him most. It’s incredibly endearing, but it also makes him incredibly uncomfortable. Also, it’s not exactly comfortable being squished against White’s face.

“I appreciate it, but also, could you put me down, please?”

She takes him away from her and blinks at his dazed expression before complying.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Where are my manners? You haven’t had any time to make yourself decent.” She begins to walk towards the door before she adds, “When you’re ready to join us, just let one of the pearl’s know.”

All of this is happening so quickly that it takes a second before he realizes what she’s saying.

“Wait, join you where?”

White is almost out of the room, but she pauses and turns, arms bent close to her chest.

“Well, you very well can’t stay in here all day. You’ll get even more lethargic, and that certainly won’t do. Plus, we have a ceremony to perform today, and it’d be an honor to have all the Diamonds present.”

“What is—”

“So, don’t spend too long getting ready,” she smiles in that way she does. “I’ll see you later, Steven!”

And, the door shuts behind her.

With a groan, Steven flops back on the cushions. He was under the impression that he got to rest, not attend to his ‘Diamond Duties.’ Maybe if he just doesn’t show up, he can get out of it.

Sleeping for sleeping’s sake isn’t enough to get any rest, but his body gives up the ghost at the idea of more responsibilities.

* * *

“Steven?”

His body is very tired. It feels like there are weights on his eyelids. He wants to know who’s saying his name, but lethargy wins in the end, and he falls asleep once again.

* * *

Maybe it’s been a long time, or maybe it’s been no time at all, but when he wakes up on his own accord, he’s surprised to feel a body next to him.

“Ah!”

He jumps, unsure of who or what is near him. But, quickly, the who or what turns over and sits up.

“Steven?”

A voice so bright and familiar, even if his name comes out timidly.

“Connie?”

Connie laughs in relief, as if she was genuinely worried she’d be greeted by another person when he woke up. She reaches out and pulls him into her, and Steven can’t do anything but laugh and hug her back.

“It feels like it’s been a while.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because it kind of has,” she releases him and sighs. “Plus, you weren’t doing so well before.”

He adverts his eyes to the window behind her. The oranges of the sky are starting to take a more pinkish hue, but the stars still shine brightly.

“Yeah, it’s been, uh, a wild couple of days—or weeks. I honestly have no idea about the time frame of anything.”

She frowns slightly. “Well, it was a few days that you were missing, and you were out cold after the Diamonds tried to heal you in the fountain for maybe a day, so it hasn’t been that long. It’s just been very eventful.”

“You’re telling me.”

This time, when they laugh, it’s awkward because neither of them wants to talk about all the bad things hanging over them, even though they know they have to.

“Steven, I—”

“No, wait, Connie.” He meets her eyes, trying to be as sincere as he can. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the things I said and did. I’m sorry I ran away, and I’m sorry I said those awful things to you, and I’m sorry I almost drowned, and I’m sorry about this whole giant mess I’ve gotten all of us into.”

Instead of looking relieved, Connie looks…guilty?

“That’s not…” She seems to be grappling to find the right words. As she begins to speak, she looks down. “I’ve thought about it a lot, and I realize now that a lot of what _I _said to _you_ was out of line. I can’t imagine how awful it feels to be corrupted, to not have full control over your mind or your body. That just sounds so horrifying to me. And, for me to come around and expect you to snap out of whatever you’re feeling just because I’m feeling bad about it is—I don’t know—it’s pretty selfish.”

Steven grabs her shoulders so she’ll look at him.

“I would never blame you for that, Connie. I was out of line. I was the one being selfish. Like, yeah, it was all really difficult to process at points, and I did and said some things I wouldn’t normally, but I’m still going to take accountability for them.” 

“I understand, but I also worry that you’re being too hard on yourself again. Especially considering—well, you know.”

They both look away from each other. It’s a lot more difficult to talk about such things when they have their heads properly fastened to their shoulders.

Connie’s voice is a soft whisper. “It’s really scary when you talk about wanting to be corrupted and stuff.”

He takes a deep breath in, and it feels cold as ice. The room has changed temperature again.

“It’s not even the truth. I don’t even want that, but I—” His vision is starting to get blurry. He tries to blink back tears, but they prick his eyes anyway. “It’s so much easier to think that I want it. The truth is, I’m terrified. I don’t want this, not really. It’s so scary to feel like you’re falling apart. The only reason it’s the truth is because I do have the—I do want to—I do feel like I—”

His breath shudders. He can’t say it now that he has a better grasp on himself. He can’t admit to her face that he wants out and the only way to do that is to not be alive.

Before he can stop himself, he starts to cry, but not in the panicked, desperate way that he would when shocked from a dream or scared for his friends or scared for himself. He cries a very genuine, deep pain that is so ingrained in his body that it hurts to let it out. It’s the kind of pain that has been held back by the threads keeping his insides from spilling out of his body, but they’ve begun unraveling since this all began, and he can’t help if they’re being snapped by all of the excess pressure.

“I—I would never do this to—hurt anyone. If I was, I would have stopped. I don’t w-want to hurt anyone. I hate that I keep doing it. But, I can’t—I can’t stop…”

Connie looks like she’s been through emotional whiplash. He had seemed fine for a second, and then, he’s back in his corrupted mindset.

“Steven, no one is saying you’re doing it on purpose. No one is saying it’s your fault.”

“But, it is,” he says through tears. He says it very miserably. “It is my fault. That’s why I don’t want to be around anyone. I can’t stop, and it hurts everyone.”

“What about you, though? You’re obviously in so much pain, and you just want to suffer alone?”

He looks at his lap, sniffing as he tries to get himself to stop crying and get back ahold of the More Sane Steven.

“Steven.” She puts a hand on his cheek, which forces his gaze back up. “You’re always so afraid to hurt people. It’s not healthy. No one can live like that. _You_ can’t live like that. It’s tearing you apart.”

“I know, I—I don’t know how to stop it. It feels like I can’t. I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Beating yourself up for the way you’re feeling is only going to make it worse. You have to _feel_ those emotions and accept them even if they’re not the emotions you want.”

“But, it feels so bad, Connie. I’m afraid if I let myself feel all of it that I’ll never stop, and I’ll—”

He doesn’t know what will happen. Cry himself to death? Become a horrible monster? Die? 

Fortunately, Connie distracts him from the line of thought.

“Shoving it down isn’t working either, Steven.”

He puts his head in his hands and shakes his head. “I know. I know. Nothing’s working. I feel like I’m falling apart.”

“Come here.”

Connie scoots closer to him and props herself against the wall before pulling him into her chest. She just holds him for a while and lets him cry. 

(She knows that there’s no use in continuing to push him. Some people respond well to challenge, and Steven usually is that person, but when it comes to his feelings, pushing him causes him to shut down. It’s a natural reaction to trauma. The panic of feeling unsafe in your own body can’t be willed away. Feeling unsafe when experiencing your own emotions is just as much a coping mechanism as any other, and ripping away coping mechanisms without proper time and care can be as traumatizing as the events themselves.)

When he begins to calm down, she speaks again.

“I’ve been doing reading on some stuff. Have you ever heard of ‘protectors?’”

“No,” he sniffs.

“They’re the things in your mind that keep you safe. Your brain has ways of thinking and coping, especially when something’s wrong, and those ways of thinking are how you survive after something bad happens. Right now, the fear of experiencing your emotions sounds like it’s acting as one of those protectors. Protectors aren’t good or bad, they’re just there, and yeah, you can act in certain ways that aren’t great because of them, but it’s not your fault they’re there. They just are.”

The idea that it’s not actually his fault makes him feel a little better, but he also isn’t sure he believes it.

She continues, “I’m sorry for always trying to force you to feel one way or another. It’s not my job to demand you feel better or experience your emotions differently. It’s okay. I’m going to be here no matter what.”

There is a certain relief in hearing her say that. He’d been so scared that he’d push everyone away with his awful feelings, and to have Connie be so patient and understanding with him makes Steven’s chest feel sort of warm inside. If he feels unsafe in his own mind, he knows he feels safe in Connie’s arms.

“You’re so strong, Steven. You know that?”

He makes an ambiguous noise in response.

“Being honest with your emotions is the bravest thing you could do, and you’re letting me see that part of you right now. I’m honored that you trust me enough to do so.”

“That was what she told me.”

“Who?”

“I’ve been having a lot of dreams about Mom lately. She said the same thing about vulnerability being powerful in one of them.”

“Aw, that’s kind of sweet.”

“Yeah. Even though most things are awful and even though I have a lot of nightmares, the ones that she talks to me in are really nice. It’s almost like she’s actually comforting me.”

“It’s a nice thought.”

“Whatever can get you through the day, right?” he laughs.

“Exactly.”

At least, the conversation ends on a pleasant note even though Steven cried through most of it. He rests his head under her chin, and at some point, they both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

* * *

It’s the same thing. Being awoken by a name.

“Steven? Connie?”

Steven doesn’t move because he’s too tired again, but Connie does, and when her eyes open, it’s clear she had forgotten where she’d fallen asleep.

“Oh, sorry, Mr. Universe. We must have dozed off.”

“It’s not a problem. I figured that’s what might have happened.”

The sound of his father’s moniker is enough to rouse him. It’s still hard, but he wants to see his dad and promise him over and over that he’s fine even though he’s anything but.

“Dad?”

“Hey, kiddo. Hanging in there?”

“I guess so.”

Steven feels Connie shift behind him.

“Do you want to talk to your dad alone? I don’t want to intrude.”

The responsible part of Steven wants to tell her to stay, to keep him accountable, to not let him lie. But, the miserable part wants her to go so he can continue to spin stories to replace the threads that keep being ripped inside of him.

(It dawns on him that the lying, the hiding, the fabrication—it’s all to hurt himself. Keeping the pain inside _hurts_. Every time he pretends he’s better than he is, he’s swallowing down another dose of isolation and self-contempt. It’s an invisible self-harm that is undetectable by an outsider unless it bursts out in a behavior, in an action, in corruption.)

(_Why do I want to hurt myself?_)

(You believe you deserve it.)

(_I don’t want to feel worse._)

(But, you do want to be punished.)

(_It hurts so bad._)

(Then, stop.)

(_I can’t._)

(You want this.)

(_I don’t._)

(Then, stop.)

(_I can’t_.)

(You want this.)

He clenches his eyes shut. His ears are ringing so loud that he can only hear the thoughts inside his head, only hear his own breath and heartbeat as they resonate inside him. He feels a wave of sticky nausea wash over him, and for a second, he thinks he’s going to grow horns or claws, but the wave recedes, and reality shifts back into focus.

Greg and Connie are staring at him. He hadn’t even felt Connie move from her spot behind him. Now, she’s on his right, a hand placed gently on his knee. He hadn’t felt that either.

“…Steven?”

Connie decides for him. “I’ll just go. My mom is probably wondering where I am, anyway.”

Steven doesn’t argue. He doesn’t really have it in him to do so. They say goodbye to each other, and Greg sits there awkwardly as she leaves.

When the doors shut, Steven hangs his head and groans. “I’m such an idiot.”

“What? Why?” Greg raises an eyebrow.

“I just—I keep feeling like I’m messing up every conversation I have will her.” His voice is tired and listless. “How many strikes do I get until I’m out?”

“Stu-ball, there’s a lot going on right now. I know Connie doesn’t blame you.”

“Well, yeah, and I logically know that because she’s told me, but I can’t convince myself that she isn’t, like, mad or tired of dealing with me.”

Greg pats his shoulder. “I get it, but I’m also telling you that she’s not tired of you.”

“…Thanks.”

There’s a silence that stretches on for too long. Greg does his best to keep the conversation going.

“How’s it been here? Y’know. In the Palace,” he says nervously. Considering the last time he’d been there, he probably just doesn’t want to get kidnapped again.

“I don’t know. It’s been fine. It’s just weird.” He sighs. “I can’t sleep when I want to, but then, I sleep all day. It’s no different than been trapped inside at home. Except here, White wants to smother me.”

“Do you want to come home?”

“No, not really. It feels like too much work to just leave after everyone’s set this up.”

“There’s no harm in bailing.”

“I know. But, I don’t want to. Not yet, at least.”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Greg says, reaching behind him. “I brought snacks for you. I didn’t know if you’d eaten recently.”

He hasn’t, but he’s been so nauseated that food sounds terrible. He’s not going to say that to his dad, though, because he’s just trying to be helpful and supportive. 

“Thanks, Dad.”

Steven takes the plastic bag, and it’s filled with junk food—Chaaaps, soda, candy, energy bars, sports drinks. Normally, he’d be all over them, but he feels like throwing up just imagining putting something in his mouth.

(Thinking back, he hasn’t had anything to eat or drink for a while, but he also hasn’t had any cravings for those things either. Kinda scary.)

“I wanna make sure you feel as at home as you can, even though this is clearly not home. I know you’ve had a hard time, and I feel bad that I hadn’t been more there for you.”

There’s a reason for that. He hadn’t wanted Greg to intervene—to see him physically messed up worse than before. Nothing he could have done would have fixed him, so it’s pointless for him to feel responsible.

“It’s not like I was very forthcoming with information.”

“I don’t expect you to tell me everything about what you’re going through. But, I do worry. A lot. I don’t want to lose you, too.” Greg reaches out and puts a hand on top of Steven’s pink curls. “I’d be fresh out of family.”

“I know.”

“I just want to make sure you know that I love you, and I’ll be around if you need any help, alright?”

“I know,” he repeats. "I love you, too, Dad.”

Another voice comes from the other side of the room.

“I’m sorry, this is obviously a bad time to interrupt, but…”

They turn to see Pearl looking nervous by the doorway. 

“Pearl?”

“White Diamond ‘insists’ on your presence in the ballroom,” her voice dips down to a harsh whisper, a hand blocking her mouth on one side, “even though I told her that your presence is not necessary and that you might not be in a good state…”

Steven rubs his eyes. “Ugh, I don’t want to go. Can’t you bargain with her?”

Pearl sighs. “I think I’ve done all I can, which is why I’m here to warn you that she’s probably going to drop by soon. I think you may be able to talk some sense into her, considering you’re a Diamond, and I’m…not.”

Greg stands suddenly. “Well, that sounds like a cue for me to get outta here. Is that okay, Steven?”

He nods, preoccupied with what he’d even say to White to get her off his back. The worst thing about this whole arrangement is just having to deal with her. She’s so exhausting.

“I'll lead you out,” Pearl says, placing a hand on his back once he’s near her, as if she’s escorting out a person who shouldn’t be in the room in the first place. Steven just assumes she’s nervous.

The room is silent and empty now, and his insides twist in his gut. He feels anxious for no reason, tired even though he’s slept all day. He hates feeling like this, but as his internal dialogue is trying to convince him, he probably subconsciously wants it. Or something.

It’s about thirty seconds later that White Diamond comes fluttering in.

“Oh, Steven, you still haven’t changed.”

He frowns. “I really don’t feel good, White. The idea of doing Diamond stuff now makes me feel sick.”

“But, why? You don’t have to do anything, just sit there.”

“It’s—uh, hard to describe. When I feel bad, everything’s hard. Even just being in front of people.”

“Oh, dear. That’s dreadful. It’s a shame you feel that way.”

“Maybe tomorrow?” he tries, his shoulder’s shrugging high enough that they almost touch his ears.

White sighs.

“Fine. We’ll postpone it another day, but I will _insist_ that you attend tomorrow. Alright, Starlight?”

“Thanks, White Diamond.”

“You’re welcome, Steven.”


	12. Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pink Diamond's crimes continue to haunt Steven because he's not totally convinced that everything isn't his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everybody gangsta til rose starts singing [paramore interludes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nzjJMP4Psbk)

The room is black and not white. Steven doesn’t know what that means, but it sounds like bad news.

Usually, it would be easy to find his mom, but things feel hazy. He’d had dreams like this before where he knows he has to do something, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t do it for whatever reason. It feels sort of like that and sort of like he’s intruding on something he shouldn’t be.

Eventually, he spots her. Except instead of turning to him and inviting him into her arms, Rose is sitting with her back turned, shoulders slouched and head looking down. It’s so Un-Rose-like that he feels afraid to come any closer.

She takes a deep breath, and suddenly, she has a ukulele. 

“_I’m not angry anymore—well, sometimes I am. I don’t think badly of you—well, sometimes I do…_”

Steven hopes that her song isn’t directed at him.

“_Depends on the day, the extent of all my worthless rage, but I’m not angry anymore._”

“Mom?”

Rose ignores him.

“_I’m not bitter anymore, I’m syrupy sweet—rot your teeth down to their core if I’m really happy…_”

“Mom.”

She looks over her shoulder but keeps playing the instrument without singing.

“Steven, I don’t want to see you right now.”

Her voice is so soft, like velvet or melted chocolate, but even her intonation can’t take away the thump he feels in his chest.

“Mom…”

Rose shifts her focus to back in front of her.

“_Depends on the day, if I wake up in a giddy haze. Well, I’m not angry, I'm not totally angry, I’m not all that angry anymore._”

The final pluck of the string has her setting down the instrument beside her, putting her head in her hands as he’d done so many times. She looks so…normal when she sits like that. It’s like she’s a kid just like him. But, she’s not a kid. She’s his mother.

Steven starts walking towards her, but after a few steps, he hears her groan, which stops him in his tracks.

“Please, Steven. Please leave.”

Leave? From his own dream?

“I don’t know how to leave.”

“I can’t leave at all.”

He shakes his head. Something isn’t right. Maybe his brain is starting to short circuit, and it’s disrupting his dreams. Maybe he’s finally just completely losing it.

“Did I do something?” he asks sadly. “Are you mad at me?”

She lifts her head from her hands and turns so she’s facing him.

“No, Steven. It’s not you.”

“Then, what’s wrong?”

Rose won’t respond. She looks dazed, like her mind is on other things. He wonders if that’s what he looks like when he dissociates, too. Dead eyes, slack face. It’s disturbing seeing her that way.

Steven begins to walk toward her again, but before he can get close enough to sit down next to her, she stands. He always forgets that she’s so tall. Her eight-foot stature still dwarfs him even though he’s grown in the past two years.

“I told you to leave.”

Her voice is not as soft this time. It’s commanding. But, it’s not that Steven doesn’t _want_ to. Besides pinching himself (which he does try, just to make sure), he’s not found a way to escape his headspace on his own. Usually, he’s shocked out of nightmares by something frightening.

“I can’t.”

Her eyes narrow.

“It’s all ‘I can’t’ with you. ‘I can’t stop hurting people, I can’t control myself, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.’” She sighs again, but this time, it’s an exasperated sigh. She rubs at her forehead as if she has a headache. “You’re just the same as me. Always putting the blame on someone else.”

Okay, now Rose saying that to his face—his own mother saying that to her own son—is incredibly disturbing. No family member has even talked to him like that, and it makes him feel even smaller than he had just standing in front of her.

“Y-You don’t really mean that, do you?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

When he doesn’t say anything, she turns her back to him again. It’s like her personality has completely changed. Before, she’d always done her best to comfort him, but this is the exact opposite. It’s almost like she’s trying to tear him down.

“Mom?”

It’s the final straw apparently. When she flips around, she is no longer Rose but Pink Diamond, her expression furious, just as he’d seen in the reflection she’d smashed.

“I’m not your mother!”

Steven is stunned into silence. Pink continues.

“I hate this stupid place. I hate having to be trapped in these rooms. It’s all punishment. They don’t actually care about me. They just want to get rid of me. I bet they’d like me better if I disappeared.”

“…The Diamonds? You’re talking about the Diamonds? They don’t feel like that—”

She carries on as if he’s not there.

“White just wants me to be like her, but no one can ever be her. No one can ever live up to her expectations. And, I’m not her! I don’t want to rule over planets! I don’t want to be responsible for the fate of a species! I don’t want to be treated like a mistake!”

He’s starting to shake. Her eyes are so angry. It’s scary.

“And, you—” she points at Steven, and her frown deepens, “—I hate you because you remind me of myself.”

“Y-You don’t mean that—”

“Of course, I mean it! That’s why I want you to get out of my head!”

He doesn’t know how to tell her that this is his head, not hers.

“Pink, I…I understand that it must be frustrating to be back in the Palace, but I can’t help it right now. I’m sick.”

She feigns shock, her hands pressed to her chest. “Oh, dear, how _horrible_.” She rolls her eyes, and the facade falls apart. “What about me? I’m _not_ sick? No one ever cared that I was sick. No one ever cared that I was suffering!”

Steven closes his eyes and prays to wake up.

“But, you get all this special attention. You get people falling over themselves to tell you how much they love you. And, all you can do is sulk about it. I may be a coward, but so are you, Steven Universe. At least, I’m honest about it.”

The sound of his name makes his eyes snap open. She’s very close to him. She has a grip on the front of his shirt.

It slips out.

“Mom, please stop—”

That’s when he’s lifted up and thrown across the expanse. He flies through the air before slamming and skittering on the ground until all of his momentum is used up. Steven groans as he tries to get up, but much like when he was more corrupted, his arms feel weak, and his body aches.

Suddenly, she’s crouched in front of him. Her hand is slipped under his chin and tilted up so his diamond eyes meet her diamond eyes.

“Never call me ‘Mom’ ever again.”

Steven’s breath catches in his throat.

* * *

He wakes up heaving. It’s not hyperventilating. It’s like he hasn’t breathed in hours.

Every part of him feels wrong. His skin is crawling. He feels sick. He’s really hot. Something’s moving under his skin.

(_She’s here, she’s here, she’s here. I can feel her, she’s here._)

He shakes his head to get it back on straight. What does that mean? Why is his brain thinking that? Ugh. 

The only thing that he thinks will calm him down is to splash water on his face.

Steven stands up, ignoring how he sways on his feet, and walks over to module in the center of the room. A small screen pops up, but nothing happens when he puts his hand on in. He’s probably not supposed to use it. He doesn’t want to grab Pearl, though, so he goes over to the wall where he remembers the compartment with the blankets being.

There’s a clear outline in the wall where it should open up but no latch or key or anything.

He says, “Fuck it,” and lifts his leg so he can kick and slam his foot into it. There’s a small squeaking sound, and then, the wall begins to fall down. Steven has to quickly leap out of the way to prevent himself from being squished. Huh, thousands of years of neglect must have made the doors weak, or he could be underestimating his own strength.

But, sure enough, there’s a rack with blankets on it.

Slowly, he walks to the next panel, which is a few feet from that one. He kicks it in the same way, and when it falls down, there’s a very extensive wardrobe of pink clothing. Dresses, suits, pajamas—even his signature star shirt and jeans are there in a pink variation. Now that he’s thinking about it, a change of clothes would probably be for the best. Who knows how clean or unclean he is.

So, he changes into a pink t-shirt and pink pants. Unfortunately, the only shoes available are Pink’s with the little pompoms on them, and after that dream, no part of him wants to emulate her in any way, so he decides to go barefoot.

One more panel, one last kick.

When this one slams to the ground, he’s a little shocked to see a replica of his bathroom. He doesn’t want to know how they found out what it looks like, so he pushes the thought aside and walks in.

At least, he knows how everything works. He turns on the faucet of the sink and splashes water on his face. It’s very cool on his skin, which tells him that his fever must be back. Oh, joy. That always leads to great things.

When he lifts his head up, he sees his reflection, which is off-putting, to say the least. He’s pink but clearly pale and lackluster, and the circles under his eyes tell him that whatever amount of sleep he’s been getting isn’t nearly enough. His exhaustion was enough to tip him off, but actually seeing his face is a whole new level. Probably not eating or drinking isn’t helping matters either.

(He really wants to punch the mirror, to get his reflection out of his sight, but he can’t be like her, he can’t be like her, he can’t be like her.)

Instead, he turns away and takes a deep breath, trying to quell the intense self-hatred he feels when he looks at himself and remembers that he is—essentially—Pink Diamond. It’s so antithetical to hate oneself, and yet, he does. It’s like a stabbing flare of anger, and it makes him want to take an ice cream scoop and carve out his heart, to drop it to the ground and let it melt in the sun.

With all this nonsense in his brain, he decides that going for a walk might clear his head. Probably not, but it’s worth a try.

The corridors all look the same, and the Palace is so expansive that he knows he’s going to get lost, but he kind of likes it that way. The floor is cold on his bare feet. He doesn’t know what space material it’s made of, but it feels like walking on tile in the dead of winter. The chill takes his mind off things. Physical sensation isn’t usually this grounding, but right now, it’s enough, and he thanks the stars that he can center himself after feeling so bad.

He glances up near the ceiling where strips of light glow and fade almost like waves on a beach. He wonders if it’s gem energy that powers the structure. It’s a lot more beautiful than any of the ways humans harvest energy. Although, he thinks to himself, both destroy planets for their own gain, so maybe there isn’t much difference between humanity and the gems after all.

In a way, he understands what his mother was trying to do. It feels like a metaphoric peace deal, a symbol of humanity cast onto the Diamonds that didn’t exist before.

(“_It’s the ultimate symbol of humanity, to give birth. To pass down information through reproduction is a form of ‘Heavenly Love.’_”)

“A symbol of freedom.”

It’s hard to shake the thought that it was an easy way out. She couldn’t handle the trauma, so she pushed it onto him. But, he can’t handle it either. It’s too much, and none of it is really his fault even though he likes to tell himself that it is. But, in the end, he knows it was her and not him. It’s just easier to hate himself than it is to hate her. 

And, really, he doesn’t _hate_ Rose. He just doesn’t understand her behavior or her motivations. Was she an insolent child who disregarded the consequences of her actions, or was she an Enlightened God who bestowed freedom onto the planet and gave birth to the Savior of the Universe? It feels like there’s no in-between because he doesn’t know who she was. All of his experience with her is either fabricated in his mind or described to him postmortem.

(The image of Pink glaring down at him, his shirt clutched in her fist, is seared in his mind, and even as he tries to not think about it, he can’t help but think about it.)

There’s no way to ask her ‘who are you,’ and so he has no choice but to fill in the blanks with fragmented information.

“Hey!”

Steven is jolted back into the present. It takes a second for him to realize just what he’s looking at.

“Spinel?”

She waves furiously from around the corner.

“You sneak around at night, too?”

Steven stares at the little pink gem, who is much happier than he remembers her being in her current form.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

She slinks over to him, pressing herself against the ground and slithering like a snake, and then pops up so that their faces are only a few inches from each other. Steven leaps back due to how quickly she performs such an action.

“Mr. Steven Universe! I haven’t seen your sorry mug since you came in on the ship.”

“You were there?”

“Of course,” she beams, pressing a hand to her chest. “I accompany the Diamonds everywhere. It’s almost like I’m a pearl.” Spinel flips her hair as if it were long and flowing over her back instead of tied up on her head. But, she can’t keep up the charade and giggles into her hands. “Imagine me, a spinel, acting as a pearl. So ridiculous.” 

“I’m glad to see you’re getting along and making friends.”

“I think it’s going well, at least. I like the pearls. They’re sweet. Except for Yellow, she’s pretty obnoxious, but I like that about her.”

While she’s going on about all of it, Steven looks at her outfit, which is different than he remembers. She’s still magenta, but she has sheer sleeves coming off of her shoulders, which are split open over the inside of her arms but still attached at the wrists. A belt is fastened around her waist, which has a high-low skirt attached that is also sheer and moves similarly to how White’s dress does when she walks. Her hair is in round buns with only a few stray hairs escaping. They’re much neater than they had been.

“Did you poof?”

“What? No.”

“Then, what’s with the new look?”

“Oh, this? It’s not really new. Pink Pearl made modifications for me.” Spinel unbuckles and buckles the belt again to demonstrate. “I can take them off if I want, but she thought it made me blend in with the court better.” She spins around so the sleeves and skirt billow like she’s a little pink princess. “Do you like ‘em?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty.”

“Now, what about you, Universe?” She squints and leans forward, once again in his personal space. “You’re super pink all of a sudden, aren’t cha?”

“It’s, uh, complicated.” 

“Oh, is it gossip? How exciting. I would love to hear how _Garnet_, _Amethyst_, and _Pearl_ are fairing.” She pronounces their names like she’s making fun of high-nobility, but Steven knows that she actually is interested.

“You have to have seen Pearl on the ship.”

“I did, didn’t I? But, I didn’t talk to her much. She told me to be quiet, so I got mad and left.”

That checks out.

“It’s not anything to do with them. It’s me. I’m messed up.”

Spinel raises an eyebrow. She’s probably thinking about how different Steven seems, how _sad_ he looks, how _weak_ he looks. His whole demeanor is decidedly un-Steven-like.

“Okay,” she says. “Walk with me, talk with me.”

They make their way down the hallway, Spinel peeking around corners to make sure the coast is clear before every turn. She probably doesn’t have to do it, but it’s like a game. They’re two messed up gems fighting against _The System_ because they don’t belong, and who knows who might snatch them up and throw them in a cell? Renegades On The Run. Except she’s playing for herself and not to please anyone else. It's refreshing to see.

“Whatcha doing on Homeworld, anyway?”

“Um…” He has to think about what to say for a second. The others had seen his progressive breakdown first hand so he’d never had a need to describe it before. “Well, I—I started losing my shit.”

“Oh-ho! Such language from self-righteous Mr. Goody Two Shoes.”

“Yeah, well.”

“Okay, so ‘losing your shit,’ huh? What about?”

“Everything. Stuff mom did. Stuff I did. I was so depressed that I went nuts.”

“Relatable,” she nods. “Pink Diamond really took a number on all of us, but after thinking about it for a while…” her voice gets quieter, “…she, uh, probably did a lot more to you than anyone else. Altogether, I mean.”

Spinel stops for a second, scratching the back of her head. When Steven stops as well and turns to look at her, he can’t help but think she looks guilty.

“I know it’s been a while, but…I’m sorry for reacting how I did and…doing what I did. I know I said sorry before and stuff, but I feel like I need to say it again.”

He shrugs with one shoulder. “I’m sorry for all the stuff Mom did, especially to you.”

She waves him off. “Not your fault. As I said, I’ve had a lot of time to think, and I know I blamed you for it, but it wasn’t you.”

Steven sighs and presses his back against the corridor wall, sliding down until he’s sitting on the floor. He puts a hand to his forehead. “Why does it feel like my fault, then?”

Spinel jumps and lands in a perfect cross-legged position right next to him. “Uh, because everyone tells you that you’re her.”

“I am her.”

“No, you’re _better_ than her. You wanted to be my friend, and you really wanted to help me.” She looks down at the space between her legs. “She just saw me as a nuisance.”

“I don’t think she saw you that way. I think she’s just easily bored and has trouble caring about anything other than herself.”

“Wow, harsh words for some harsh baggage. Also, nice use of present tense.”

He didn’t realize he’d phrased it that way, but it’s true that he doesn’t particularly consider her “gone,” especially considering how frequently she appears in his sleep.

“Does a part of you ever wonder if she’s coming back?”

“A part of me? Sure.” Spinel gives him a lopsided smile. “But, she never does.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

She gets up and holds out her hand. “I said walk with me, not sit with me.” Steven laughs and takes her hand, but the strength she uses to pull him up leaves him stumbling around to keep his balance. That seems to be the goal since right after, she hits his shoulder. “Tag, you’re it.”

With that, she takes off down the hall, giggling as she does so. Steven can’t tell if she’s doing this to keep his mind off things or she’s getting her previous goofiness back. Whatever the reason, he runs after her, even though he’s exhausted. Sometimes it’s nice to pretend the only objective he has in the world is to play games with a friend.

(It does take a load off his shoulders to feel like a kid. He hasn’t run from anything but his problems in so long, he almost forgot how it feels to have fun. Or, his brain is just releasing dopamine because he’s exerting energy.)

When he rounds a corner, he doesn’t have enough time to realize that Spinel had stopped, and so he collides into her back, and then, they both collide into something much more solid than the both of them.

It’s a shock of fast-paced events (going from a sprint to a sudden stop to being splayed out on the floor), especially since he knocks his head against the cold and hard floor. It takes him a second to figure out what’s going on.

Unfortunately, Spinel had stopped because she’d come face to face with Yellow Diamond.

“What are you two doing?”

Spinel is up before he can manage to. “Aha—playing?”

“In the halls?”

Steven joins her in standing after a moment. He shrugs hesitantly and offers an even more hesitant, “…Yes…?”

There is a delay in her reaction, but then, Yellow starts laughing heartily, holding her stomach as if someone had just told her the funniest joke in the universe.

“Oh, Stars, you always manage to get a laugh out of me, Spinel,” she wipes away a tear. “Breaking the rules just to play? Truly hilarious.”

Steven looks at Spinel like, ‘_Is she serious?_’ and Spinel looks at Steven like, ‘_Just play along._’

“But, enough fooling around. I’m sure White is looking for you, Steven.”

“Oh…yeah…some ceremony, right?” he tries to smile, but it just looks like he’s cringing. Not that Yellow would know. “I couldn’t be…more excited?”

“She was all in a tizzy about it yesterday. I think she might crack the planet into fourths if she doesn’t get to do it today.”

Well, that’s truly terrifying.

“Off to the ballroom, you two. Hurry up.”

Spinel and Steven share a wary glance but have no choice except to follow her instructions.

* * *

The ballroom is just as expansive and impersonal as he remembers. It only looks like a nice place when it’s filled with people, but it’s completely empty except for the pearls standing off to the side and Blue and White on their respective thrones. Yellow appears soon after Steven and Spinel get in line with the pearls.

Pearl sees Steven and shuffles through the line so she’s standing next to him. She bends down and whispers in his ear.

“I’m sorry, I tried again today to convince her not to invite you, but she was having none of it. I think it’d be best if you just try to get through it. Such events usually only take a half hour or so.”

Steven is confused as to why Pearl looks so worried. Sure, he doesn’t want to be there and it’s probably not great to be placed on Diamond Duty while trying to rest up, but there are certainly worse things that could be happening. However, Pearl's demeanor is starting to convince him that there’s something else underneath the surface of all of this.

“What’s going on, Pearl?”

“Uh, well, that’s a bit complicated—”

White’s voice promptly interrupts whatever she was about to say.

“Oh, Steven. You don’t belong over there!” She gestures to the seat directly below her. “Come join us. We’re just about to start.”

Steven looks at Pearl, looks at Spinel, and then back at White. Before he leaves the lineup, Pearl gives him one last whisper.

“I’m right here. I’ll be here the whole time. Don't worry.”

For some reason, this spooks him more than it reassures him.

As he walks up the stairs and does his best to climb up on the gigantic throne, he remembers the last time he sat on it and all the drama that followed. Things are so different now, and yet, he’s thrown back in time. Maybe nothing’s changed and everything is just a big mixed-up fantasy that he’s never woken up from.

“And, now—Pearls! Would you please open the doors?”

Blue, Yellow, and Pink Pearl all salute and say, “Yes, My Diamond.” They hop off the platform and rush to the other side of the room. It always amazes him how fast they are even though they’re so small and lithe.

As the doors open, bubbles start pouring in. It’s confusing because it’s almost like someone has soap and a huge bubble blower and they’re directing it right through the threshold. But, slowly, he begins to realize that they’re actual gem bubbles that hold actual gems inside of them. And, he recognizes them. They’re…rose quartzes.

There are so many. 

Hundreds. Hundreds of bubbles. Hundreds of rose quartz gems. 

He can't help but gasp out, "What?"

Steven had vaguely seen them on the moon with The Zoo on it, but it sinks in now exactly what had happened. 

(They bubbled an entire type of gem because of her. Because she lied.)

White stands, her arms held out in front of her like she's about to cast a magic spell. She closes her eyes, her fingers tense—

And, all the bubbles begin to pop. One by one. It starts out slow, and then, so many are popping at once that the sound is cacophonous, just completely overwhelming. The ballroom's acoustics make the sounds bounce around and around. Steven has to suppress the urge to cover his ears. Instead, he clenches his eyes shut, tries to block it all out. 

(He can survive this. Pearl’s only a few feet away. She’ll be there to comfort him when it’s all over. All he needs to do is _keep it together._)

Other sounds start mingling, particularly, the whooshing and twinkling of gems reforming. Reluctantly, he opens his eyes again, and slowly, an entire army's worth of rose quartzes fills the room. They all look at each other with confusion, with awe, with fear. Clearly, some remember the few seconds before they were poofed and some don't. Some are just mesmerized by the Diamond Menagerie in front of them. 

Specifically, many are staring at the little boy sitting where a shattered gem would be. 

Steven finds himself shaking. He can't help but look and feel horrified.

(It was just another crime perpetrated by his mother. Just more proof of the pain and suffering she caused. For 6,000 years, these rose quartzes were imprisoned. All because she wanted to have fun on Earth.)

Disgusting.

Once they are all unbubbled and their confused chatter is very loud, White waves her hands again, this time in a commanding way, as if she's the conductor of the Rose Orchestra. 

"Silence!"

They all freeze. Then, they all flip to face forward and salute at the exact same time. 

"Your Majesty!"

White begins to monologue. 

"It truly is unfortunate—the events that led to us being here today. I will admit that we made a mistake."

The quartzes make noises of shock. Gasps, whispers, chatter. 

"We wrongly believed it was your gem who shattered Pink Diamond. However, you will see that she sits before you in a different form. She was not shattered, and therefore, you are all innocent. You have been accused of crimes you did not commit. We caused you unjust suffering because of our grief, and that was wrong. We all deeply apologize."

They’re obviously trying to wrap their heads around the situation, around the idea that Pink isn’t actually shattered, around the idea that White Diamond is apologizing to _them_.

White sits down but not before bending over and whispering to Steven, “Would you like to say a few words as Their Diamond?”

Steven gawks at her. No one had ever said anything about ‘_saying a few words._’ Literally, White had told him that he just had to sit there. Was this her plan all along? Quickly, he looks over at Pearl, but not knowing what White had said to him, she can only return his troubled expression with questioning eyes. When he looks up at White, her eyes are expectant.

Guess he has no choice.

He stands up on the seat of Pink's throne and clears his throat. Hundreds of eyes look at him, and if he feels small when standing next to Rose in his dreams, he feels infinitely dwarfed by a ballroom stuffed to the brim with her.

Well, they don’t all look like her. Some have different hair—wild like Amethyst’s or Jasper’s, straight and wavy like Sapphire’s—but many of them have huge tumbling curls just like his mother. The strangest sensation rises up in his chest, and he has trouble finding words.

“Um…hi.”

The entire room salutes. “My Diamond.”

That will never not be creepy.

“Yeah, so—aha—it must be pretty weird to wake up here, huh? And, even more confusing since Pink Diamond, um, looks like this.” He puts his arms out to indicate his boyish organic form. “It’s honestly a huge, long story that I can’t really get into. But, Pink Diamond—my mom—faked her own shattering so she could live on Earth and then she had a child, and that child’s me…” Steven laughs uncomfortably, and it only sharpens in tone when he gets questioning looks back from the audience.

He continues, “My point is that—I’m sorry, too. None of this would have happened to you if my mom didn't do what she did. Obviously, I can only apologize so much because I’m not her, but it makes me feel really bad that all the things she did hurt so many people. You didn’t deserve to be bubbled for 6,000 years.”

The crowd murmurs. “6,000 years?”/“What did Pink do?”/“What about the colony?”/"What about the war?"

Oops, maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

“Er, sorry, that’s probably pretty upsetting to hear. If it makes you feel any better, you’re not the only one she screwed over for 6,000 years.”

Yellow leans down, her tone low. “Steven, that’s enough.”

He laughs nervously but can’t stop carrying on, “Yeah, I guess I should probably not talk about all the stuff she did because it’s so terrifying that I can’t even think about it most of the time, and it’s just so much, and it all feels so bad—”

“Alright, I think we should bring this ceremony to a close…” Blue says, standing up and glancing at White Diamond who seems a tad unnerved but not like Blue and Yellow do.

(_All the things she did—all the things she did—so much and so awful…_)

Steven gets another wave of sticky nausea, but it’s far more intense than any of the previous sensations. It’s so bad that he honestly believes he’s going to throw up in front of everyone. He tries to not make it obvious by sitting down before he grabs his stomach and leans forward slightly. 

(Only Pearl’s eyebrows furrow at his sudden change in demeanor.)

He covers his hand with his mouth, but the sensation only intensifies, and he has to gasp because it steals the oxygen from him. This isn’t normal nausea. He doesn’t know why he knows that, but he does.

“You are all dismissed,” White declares. However, the impact of the statement is lessened by the sound of a body falling to the ground. She looks down just in time to see Steven rolling down the stairs, his arms clenched around his abdomen.

“Steven!” the Diamonds, Pearl, and Spinel all cry in unison.

He hears them and struggles to push himself up. “Sorry guys, I just—don’t feel so good.” Sitting back on his heels, he rubs at his eyes and wishes he would just vomit so he could feel better. He’s struck with the feeling that he’s been taking for granted what it feels like to not feel nauseous. 

When he senses someone in front of him, he uncovers his face, expecting to see Pearl or a Diamond or even one of the quartzes, but no, that would make sense.

“Aw, is little baby Steven sick?” Pink crouches in front of him with a mocking pout on her face. “You poor thing.”

“Ah!” he yells and scrambles back until he hits the base of the stairs.

She stands again, one arm across her waist and the other on top of it, hand pressed to her cheek.

“You’re so angry with me. Don’t you want me to explain myself? I can't do that if I stay put in your head.”

“N-No…”

“But, Steven, you can’t keep running away from who you are. It’s only going to backfire. Out of everyone, I should know.”

“I’m not you.”

“Oh, really? But, what is that on your stomach? That’s _my_ gem.”

“It’s ours,” he gasps out between breaths. He flinches against the whirling sickness in his stomach. “But, I’m not you.”

“You don’t believe that.”

He manages to stand, even though he shakes while doing it. Pink raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“I do! I can’t be you. I would never do the things you did. I would never dump all my mistakes on other people.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing now? Your mistake was taking everyone’s expectations and emotions and loading them all on yourself. Now, you can’t help but make everything about you. How is it different when the outcome is the same?"

He steps forward weakly but his voice remains resolute regardless of his heavy breathing. “But, my—my intentions are different. I’m not self-serving. I’m trying my best not to trouble everyone. I’m trying to be better than _you_.”

This makes her angry. She responds with a forceful and sarcastic laugh.

“Hah. That’s funny. As if you could ever.”

“Mom wanted me to grow and change.”

She bends at the waist, hands on her hips, and slowly says, “Well, I’m not your fucking mother.”

Something inside of Steven’s brain snaps, and he lets out an incomprehensible yell, swinging a fist in front of him to hopefully deck his Not-Mother across the face, but his fist does not make a connection with anything, and instead, he’s being grabbed around the waist.

“Steven, stop!”

Pearl’s voice makes Pink go away. He blinks and looks around wildly.

(Shocked faces, afraid eyes, frozen bodies.)

“Pearl,” he chokes out, going limp in her arms. “Something isn’t right.”

She whispers, “I know, Steven. Let’s just go back to your room.”

What rises up inside him isn’t nausea but a foreign feeling of blind and resentful anger.

“_No!_” He breaks out of her grip and falls to the ground again, but that doesn’t stop him from continuing. “You can’t lock me up again. _I won’t let you!_”

Steven is acutely aware that those words _were not his._ Or, rather, they are his, but he’s confused and scared that he actually is no better than Pink and that her crimes are his.

(And, if her crimes are his, he’s to blame for every bad thing that has befallen the gems because of her actions. He is truly to blame/blame/blame—is really at fault/fault/fault—)

And, it would prove once and for all that Steven Universe is truly bad.

It’s the last thought he has before he can’t remember anything at all.


	13. Interlude I (Franticity)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pearl doesn't know what to do, or she does, but she can't do it alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter title is from zach callison's album which is AMAZING btw, pls check it out
> 
> also sorry this chapter is short. as the title implies, i might do a series of vignettes but of course who knows. it's gonna be the last update before future airs so that might change some things depending on if im inspired or not lol
> 
> love u guys xx

Depression doesn’t really make sense when you try to attack it logically, or at least, if you attack it logically from a misguided angle.

People who haven’t dealt with it usually go back to their own frame of reference, which is of course, being sad. It makes a lot of sense as to why people treat those with depression the way they do. Friends and family desperately want to help, want to make you feel better. They want to give advice, say what makes them feel happy, ask if they need different medication or any number of combinations of things.

But, depression isn’t sadness. It’s a mental disorder. It’s extreme apathy, and yes, that often causes sadness, but the two are not synonymous.

The things you do aren’t rewarding. Playing video games is fun, but if it doesn’t make you feel good, it’s just another chore. Chores that don’t benefit you become seemingly impossible because the chemicals that make you initiate and complete actions just aren’t there. So, going outside and taking a walk might feel physically nice or even calming, and a normal person might feel rewarded or invigorated afterward. The depressed person can acknowledge that it was a nice time, and the sun felt nice, and the breeze was nice, and stretching their legs felt nice, but it wasn’t fun. It didn’t make them feel _good._

It’s an illness in the way that only properly getting medical treatment can ever hope to solve it. It’s not like being depressed because someone died or because you’re moving away and leaving all your friends. Usually, those feelings disappear as you adjust to a new life. Chronic depression often has no “reason,” per se. Things are fine, and you’re just sad. The things that made you the way you are have happened so long ago that they don’t even consciously bother you anymore, and yet, here you are in the future, and you’re sad.

It’s not a choice—you can’t just “feel” happy. You have to work at it for years and years with the help of people who know what they’re talking about.

As much as the people around you want to help, they can’t. Not really anyway.

* * *

Okay, Steven talking to himself isn’t good. It’s actually really bad.

He’s hallucinating. It’s bad. Bad/bad/bad/bad.

(She had tried—oh, Stars—how she tried.)

(“_He’s really frail right now, White Diamond._”/_“I don’t think he can handle this right now, White Diamond._”/“_He’s very traumatized by Pink’s disappearance, White Diamond_.”)

It’s not her fault, but old ghosts resurface, and she blames herself.

He takes a swing at the imaginary person, but she catches him before he falls. She does her best to comfort him, but it’s too late. It’s too late. It’s years and years too late.

The room erupts into screaming and terror as he transforms. Horns and spines, deep pink skin, a guttural roar.

He’s angry. He swings his tail and dozens of Rose Quartzes slam into the wall. Pearl yells at him—(“_Please stop, Steven!_”)—even though she’s not sure if he even is Steven anymore.

Tears run down her face as she jumps on his back and climbs up his absurdly long neck by grasping onto his spines. She cries his name over and over, but he doesn’t calm down. Is he blinded by some internal rage, or is this just what happens when survival instincts take over?

Steven whips around until White stands and commands Pearl to get off of the monster. When she leaps down, the Diamonds attack him with some kind of beam of light, but considering his giant form thumps to the ground immediately, Pearl assumes it was meant to subdue him but not hurt him. Blue Diamond is crying.

Everyone wonders how—why? It feels terrible, and it’s not just because Blue’s power is making the whole room cry.

* * *

She’s stunned as she stands on the warp pad. 

(Pearl hasn’t felt despair this powerful since Rose announced she was going to have a baby that would kill her.)

How did this happen? How could it have happened? How? _How?_ She can’t wrap her mind around it.

She dissociates until Garnet and Amethyst show up in the dome. They want to see Steven. Pearl bursts into tears, sobbing so hard she can’t get words out.

(What she’s seen is horrible, horrific, traumatizing. She feels that same shame that Steven does, that overpowering urge to be nothing, to melt into the floor and disappear forever.)

They know by her reaction that something’s happened to him. They don’t know what, but dread sits on them, too.

(_“It’s not my fault! Please believe me! White—White made him—then, he—oh, Stars!_”)

(_“We know it’s not your fault, Pearl. Please, tell us what happened.”_)

She can’t. _She can’t._ She can’t/can’t/can’t/can’t/can’t/can’t.

You have to see for yourself, she says. I can’t believe this is happening, she says.

When they warp and walk into the room, they all begin crying (Garnet silently, Amethyst audibly sniffing, Pearl wailing into her hands.)

It’s truly their worst nightmare.

(_“He can’t be healed without Pink’s powers! How is this going to be fixed?!”_)

This can’t be fixed with how he currently is. They have to help him. But, how?

He’s subdued for now, sleeping somewhat peacefully in the cushion room. He wraps around almost the entire perimeter of it. He's truly gigantic. 

They don’t know what to do. They can’t see him like this. They don’t want to leave him alone, but they need time to process the situation. Hopefully, Steven will survive without them for a few hours.

* * *

Pearl goes to the only person she knows who’s raised a teenager and knows fairly well. Explaining what has happened gets a shocked expression from her at first, but as she goes on, her expression gets more serious.

“Have you ever let him have a space where he could honestly vent his thoughts and feelings?” Vidalia asks.

“Of course. We’ve always encouraged Steven to be open with us. We talk all the time.”

“No. What I mean is, regardless of what you say to him, have you ever created an atmosphere where his thoughts and feelings would be uncritically judged regardless of how much they might be uncomfortable to listen to?”

“I…hope we did that for him. We tried our best at least.”

“Have you ever just let him be sad or be angry without trying to fix him?”

Pearl’s eyes widen, her hands gripping each other.

“If he constantly sees his feelings as problems—as problems for the Gems—why would he ever be open about them? You can’t blame him now when he’s literally bursting at the seams because he can’t placate you any longer.”

“I would—I would never want to do that to him.”

“Of course not. No guardian would. Things of this nature are almost always accidental. You never know what messages you’re sending a child just by living your own life. Every adult has issues they’ve never worked out, but they end up reproducing the problem on their child.”

“I…I…”

“And, I know it hurts to hear, but you also shouldn’t take this information as a reason to self-deprecate or feel bad for yourself. You’ll want to—trust me, you will—but the focus of this is Steven. It’s your turn to be the adult and suck it up and get over it so you can help _him_.”

Pearl understands now. She had never thought about it that way before, but Vidalia makes perfect sense to her. They had gone about this all wrong. The only thing Steven needed was acceptance, and they had done the exact opposite of that.

Now, he’s so engulfed in his own pain that he’s a giant monster.

"Thank you, Vidalia. This conversation has been enlightening."

"Glad I could help," she smiles.

* * *

Another stop. This time to the Maheswaran’s residence.

“Could you give special assistance to Steven if he needed it?”

Connie looks up at her mother with tears in her eyes. She looks puzzled, but understandably so.

“Not with magic things, no.”

“Not magic things. Human things. But, critical human things.”

“I don’t see why not. It might be breaking some HIPAA laws, but these are very special circumstances.”

“I just want to make sure he’d be taken care of if something happens.”

“What do you think might happen?” Connie asks urgently. There's panic in her eyes.

“I’m trying to come up with a plan that might get him back, but it’s…complicated and dangerous.”

However, it’s not as complicated and dangerous as the current circumstances, so she’s willing to risk it.

* * *

Last stop. Spinel’s room.

“_Oh_, why if it isn’t Pearl! How’s Pink Lizard doing?”

She’s sarcastic but clearly worried. She’d been pacing the room when Pearl arrived. She ignores her “joke.”

“Spinel, do you still have access to Pink Diamond’s old things?”

“Sure. None of them are good for anything but destruction, though.”

“It doesn’t matter. I have an idea to get Steven back, but it requires your help.”

“Really? You’re trusting me?”

“We don’t have much of a choice.”

Spinel’s eyebrows furrow, but she nods anyway. “Let’s break some rules,” she says, cracking her fingers.

Pearl laughs to herself. They never stop being renegades, do they?


	14. Psyche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven's worst nightmare is being trapped inside his own mind with Pink Diamond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof i am sorrryyyy that this took so long but future, huh??? im shook
> 
> since this mostly takes place from stet's pov, we're going to probably backtrack next chapter just to see what the others are doing. it might be an interlude or maybe i'll whip out something longer, who's to say lmaoo 
> 
> also yes there are many serial experiments lain references in this chapter because i can't help myself lol, thanks for sticking with me friends! xx

“You know what you’re doing is going to be bad, right?”

“Yes, I am fully aware.”

“This might kill him.”

“I know. I am fully aware.”

“So why?”

Pearl breathes in deeply and sighs heavily.

“I have no idea how else to help him. And, there’s no other way to help her.”

“Her?”

“You know who.”

“Oh.” Spinel shuffles on the warp pad. “I don’t think she’s the one that needs saving.”

“If Steven is half of her, then she absolutely needs saving. Imagine being so bothered by something you are that it makes your form change.”

“Yeah, I sure can imagine.”

Pearl hums but does not give another response on the topic.

“You knew her. She was often so sad. If she’s still somewhat conscious of Steven’s state, I’m sure the corruption is taking a toll on her as well.”

Spinel contemplates this for a second.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I feel bad for Steven, though. I wouldn’t want to be locked up in a place with Pink.”

“Really? Why?”

“Oh, I guess you weren’t around when she was still having tantrums. I can say this now because I hate her guts, but she was a raging bitch when she wanted to be.”

Pearl’s eyes fly open, apparently not expecting such harsh language. “Oh, dear.”

“Yeah. And, throw corruption and self-hatred in there? I can’t imagine.”

“Then, we’ll just have to act that much faster,” Pearl says before Spinel activates the warp pad.

* * *

He knows something’s gone wrong. He can’t figure out what, though. He can’t feel anything, can’t see anything.

Steven knows he did something bad. Before he totally lost consciousness, he heard Pearl’s voice, heard screams, felt nausea take over his entire body.

He doesn’t know if his body exists when he cries out, “It’s not my fault! Please! I want it to stop!”

There’s a deep and hearty chuckle that rings out from somewhere around him. He knows who it is but doesn’t want to think about it.

“Oh, but of course it’s your fault, Steven. Why would any of this be happening if you hadn’t acted like this?”

“But, I—I—please, n-no…”

“Aw, such small things can break you completely down. It’s kinda cute.” Her voice is sing-song when she says, “Little helpless Steven…”

He hates this. He hates this so much.

She materializes in front of him as does his own body. She looms over him, a large presence that only gets bigger in alignment with how afraid he is.

It’s one thing to have dreams about her, but to be stuck in his own mind with her is—it’s so much. He grabs his shoulders, but it only points to how frightened he is and how much he’s shaking.

“So scared,” she smiles. “It’s hard to believe that you were able to save the universe when, on the inside, you’re like this.”

Pink sounds so much like Spinel in the way that she talks. If her voice was more high-pitched and squeaky, it would be almost indistinguishable from hers.

“I didn’t feel like this back then.”

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” She taps a finger to her chin. “Maybe, all this time, you’ve just been pushing and pushing and pushing all the bad things down. And, you were so good at it that you couldn’t feel how sad, and scared, and angry you were.”

She kneels down in front of him, but she’s still frighteningly huge. Not as huge as the other Diamonds, but just the fact that she’s her makes the experience that much worse.

She continues, “You were so good at not feeling the emotions that now, you can’t feel anything at all. The only thing left to do is to let all the pain and anger out. That’s all you are now, Steven. You’re the physical manifestation of fear.”

He doesn’t want to believe that, but he knows it’s true. He doesn’t understand why he’s here in this unending darkness with nothing but himself, Pink Diamond, and some vague awareness that pops up like a screen sometimes. But, it’s hard to make anything out because the screen's blurry, and he can’t figure out how to get the image to sharpen.

The only thing he can think to do is to huddle in fear and accept Pink’s taunting.

“I don’t want to be scared of thinking or feeling anymore. But, I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“Maybe you can’t make it stop. Maybe you’re dead, and I’m here to keep you company.”

The word ‘hell’ pops up into his mind, and even though Steven doesn’t believe in such a place, if he truly is dead, then this is worse than any other punishment that he can think of. It’s personal torture of the highest degree.

“That means you’re dead, too.”

“I’ve been dead for sixteen years. It’s no different for me if you’re here or not.”

“Didn’t you want me out of your head?”

“It’s a lot more fun when I can have power over you.”

The sentence feels as haunting in his chest as it sounds to his ears.

“What are you talking about?”

Pink gestures to the endless abyss around them. “Here, we are on equal ground. It’s not your body, it’s not my body—it’s _a_ body. Being trapped in your mind means you ultimately have the power, but since we’re both sharing one collective space, there is no default.”

“So, you’re that pink me that came out when White took out my gem?”

(The sentence still has the power to make his blood run cold.)

“…Something like that.”

It’s becoming more clear that this manifestation is more of a mental metaphor than an actual place inside him. It would make sense that if he isn’t in full control of himself that he might be locked away in the corner of his mind, shoved over by some much larger, much more powerful force.

However, that doesn’t help the anxiety that Pink’s words are causing him.

“What are you going to do to me?”

She sits down in her place in front of him.

“Well, I could do a lot of things. Like, I could tell you that I was always as bad as you think I am. Or, I could prove it to you.” Her smile is sickly sweet when she says it. “I could also try to convince you that I’ve always been good, just misunderstood and abused at the hands of the Diamonds above me. What Pink do you want me to be?”

“I—I don’t know! I don’t _know_ what Pink was like. That’s the whole problem! I don’t know if she was good or bad or evil or selfless or—I just don’t know! I don’t want to hate her, but all the stuff she’s done, all the stuff she’s done—”

Pink leans forward, hands on her knees, grinning.

“That’s what I want. I want you to decide who I am. I want to be as evil or as virtuous as you want me to be.”

This is…so weird. The Pink inside him is strangely off-kilter, strangely like a blank canvas. She’s all but begging him to paint her in his colors, but it also reinforces the notion that this Pink is still probably just his fractured mind trying to piece together different aspects of his trauma into some cohesive thought process. But, there’s a reason why it’s so fractured, to begin with.

“What would it mean for me to be evil?”

Steven pauses but ultimately relaxes when she leans back into a more neutral position. 

“I guess, indiscriminate violence? A lack of empathy? A focus on selfishness?”

It’s then that a force knocks him back and flips him over, and he only realizes when he hits the ground that he’d just been punched in the face. Then, he’s being pinned down, her massive size and weight immediately able to immobilize him. Her hands are big enough that when they grip at his hair, his entire scalp feels like it’s going to rip off.

“A gem who harms their own flesh and blood—is that evil?”

Something’s changed in her voice now, and he manages to look over his shoulder just enough to see that it’s Rose who is doing this to him and not Pink.

“Mom—no, stop!”

“But, if I’m evil, I won’t. If I’m practicing indiscriminate violence and a lack of empathy, I wouldn’t stop until you’re scattered across the floor.”

Her soft voice still has that kind edge to it even when saying such vile things.

“It hurts…” he whimpers, tears collecting in his eyes.

“Yes, but this is the option you selected. This is the one you wanted to see. Why?”

“I don’t know—I didn’t ask for it—”

“And, yet, you would rather have me hurt you than comfort you. Do you feel like you don’t deserve anything else?”

“No…I—I—”

“You’re _lying!_”

Her hands grip harder, and he hisses in pain.

“Please, I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t—”

“Answer me!”

“Okay! Okay!” 

She releases his hair and reduces the amount of weight placed on his body.

“Will you tell me the truth, Steven?”

It feels like everything inside him is going to burst out, to completely obliterate his un-physical form.

“Yes, I feel like I deserve it!”

“Good boy.”

Then, she’s much smaller, much less heavy. When he’s flipped to his back, he comes face-to-face with his own pink reflection. Instead of being emotionless, he _looks evil_. There’s something wicked behind his eyes. It’s scary to see someone who looks like him that way.

“Why do you always remind me of the part of myself that I hate?”

“Because you do hate me. You hate yourself.” His smile is smug. “Steven is Steven, and I am me.”

Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s knocked his pink-half back so now he’s looming over him, and his hands go right to his neck. The chances of him actually subduing a metaphorical version of himself seems slim, though. He presses his thumbs into his windpipe, but it doesn’t have much effect.

“Look at me, I’m committing suicide!” Pink Steven laughs.

This comment scares Steven too much, and he leaps off from on top of him and skitters backward.

“This is worse than a nightmare.”

“Yeah, because this nightmare is really happening.”

“No, it can’t be.” He shakes his head, pressing his hands over his ears. “Make it stop—please, make it stop.”

After a moment, large hands grasp his wrists and pull them away from his head. When he opens his eyes, Pink is there again. She smiles in that nasty way she does before her voice turns into a quiet—yet somehow still taunting—murmur.

“Let’s play a game.”

* * *

The room is very large. It would have to be considering it houses things like injectors and the like.

“I’m surprised you’ve never been here before.”

Pearl looks down at Spinel as they walk through the aisles.

“Well, Pink had an armory on Earth that we used. It would have raised some eyebrows if the rebels had Pink Diamond’s weaponry, after all.”

“Yeah, that’d kinda blow the lid off the whole thing, huh?”

They walk past of rows of things, strange objects that Pearl had never seen used before. She had never been all that familiar with those sorts of things when she still lived on Homeworld. Pink didn’t really organize many attacks, after all.

“It’s all sorted by size. So they should be fairly easy to find…”

“Ah, that’s reassuring.”

“How do you know you have it in you to go through with it?”

“I don’t. But, I know that I'll do anything to help Steven.”

“That’s sweet,” she smiles in an actual genuine way. “You really do love him, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“This whole thing's gotta be tearing you apart.”

Pearl’s face falls for the first time since she appeared in Spinel’s threshold.

“It has. It’s been very painful for all of us.” She lets out a tiny breath that would have probably been a sigh if she weren’t trying to pass it off as a normal breath. “…Very painful.”

“Hm.” She sort of chews on her lips for a second, as if she’s processing her words. “He’s a good kid. It’s sad that this is happening.”

“Yes, it is.”

Spinel turns, and her face lights up again.

“Oh! Here’s one!”

She reaches out and grabs the handle of a Rejuvenator from a little cubby. She beams in pure joy as she presses the button and the scythe materializes in a blaze of magenta lightning.

“Presto,” Spinel grins.

The glow reflects in Pearl’s eyes. Her expression is half frightened and half intrigued. It’s the sort of look you’d see on a frustrated chemistry student that just got their experiment to finally work. 

“Here you go.”

When she takes the handle and pressed the button so the light disappears, she closes her eyes and nods resolutely before she opens them again.

“There’s no going back now.”

Spinel chuckles, “By the way you talk, it sounds like there was never going back in the first place.”

Pearl smiles but doesn’t refuse.

* * *

They sit in front of each other. On the floor in front of them are two rows of figurines. It’s almost like they’re going to play chess, but instead of chess pieces, they’re toys that remind Steven of the ones he’d use with one of his game systems to get more playable characters.

On Pink’s side, there are her forms. Pink. Rose Quartz. Pink Steven.

On Steven’s side, there are versions of him. Young Steven. Teenage Steven. Corrupted Steven.

Pink places her caricature slightly in front of the rest.

“I am Pink Diamond, the final piece of the Homeworld Authority. I bring joy to the other Diamonds, and I am revered as the Social Ambassador. My role is to raise the morale of the Homeworld Court through events and parties.”

Steven places his teenage piece on the field.

“I am Steven Universe. I am the son of Rose Quartz and Greg Universe. I’m the only half-human half-Gem. I help protect Earth with my friends.”

“Is that it?” Pink asks.

He shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Fine, you start.”

“Pink Diamond is a manipulative narcissist who threw Homeworld and the Earth into a disastrous war so she could hang out on Earth with her girlfriend who she didn’t even love.”

She glares.

“How do you know I didn’t love her? I loved her.”

“I don't believe you. You treated her like garbage.”

She makes a disgusted face at him before starting her turn.

“Steven Universe is a selfish teenager who is so out of touch with his emotions that he can’t keep himself from having a breakdown that endangers everyone who he was trying to protect, making him not only an idiot but also a hypocrite.”

He flinches. She sure knows where to poke sharp stick.

“Okay, fine, you win that one.”

Pink giggles, taking both pieces on the field and bringing them to her side. This time, she pushes Rose forward, and he pushes young Steven forward.

It’s Pink’s turn first this time. “Steven Universe is an immature, out of touch, dangerously ignorant, sniveling child who thinks that everyone loves him when, in reality, everyone thinks he’s an annoying, self-righteous waste of oxygen.”

“You can’t hurt me with things I already know,” he laughs.

“And, it’s not because you’re in denial, right?”

“Nope. Okay, I got one.” He puts his fingers through his hair so it’s extra poofy and clasps his hands together mockingly. “I’m Rose Quartz, and I just love the Earth _so much_. I’m such a martyr because I sacrificed everything just to fight for the planet to be free! I love humans so much, but I certainly don’t respect them, and I don’t really care about the Earth either. I just use the war as an excuse to fuck around with organic life because _I’m bored_. Oh, things are coming back to bite me in the ass? Might as well die and have a kid that I can pile all my guilt, shame, and mistakes on! That definitely won’t traumatize anyone!”

“Yeesh,” she sighs. “You’ve sure got a mouth on you.”

“Does that mean I get that one?”

“Whatever.”

“Nice.” He takes the pieces to his side.

“Best two out of three," she mumbles angrily.

There’s only Pink Steven and Corrupted Steven left. Steven has a lot of material on Pink and Rose, but Pink Steven? He’d seen him for all of a minute maybe, and he’s not a man of many words, either. He’s going to have to get a bit creative.

“Pink Steven…um, well, he certainly can take White to task in a way that I can’t, but it only proves how much _better than you_ I am. I brought peace to the galaxy when it never even crossed Pink’s mind. Pink ran away, Rose ran away, and the only reason the pink part of myself hasn't left is because he can’t. You said it yourself, Pink. You’re only here because you have more control while I’m like this, and I know if you ever get the chance, you’ll run from me, too. That’s how I know that the pink me is just as much of a selfish, unfeeling shell of a human being that will always need _me_ to stop _you_ from being the embarrassment of the Diamond Legacy.”

The second he stops talking and registers how Pink’s looking at him, he knows he’s made a mistake. She has a turn left, and there is no doubt in Steven’s mind that she’s going to fucking obliterate him.

And, oh, how she is going to.

“Ha, ha, ha. Funny little Steven. Taking _me_ to task as he sits in a palace riddled with corruption. It’s interesting that you talk about me being an embarrassment, but what about you? What have you not ruined in your life? Every single person and gem you have met has been traumatized by your existence. Sure, Rose gave birth to you, but she had no idea how you were going to turn out. If she knew you now, would she want you to still be alive? Or, maybe she’d want to put you out of your misery because the last mistake she ever made was _giving birth to you._”

Even though he had prepared himself to hear something hurtful, there is something incomprehensibly painful about hearing the gem who is his mother tell him that he should have never have been born. Against his best efforts, he still feels tears prick his eyes.

“Oh, is baby Steven crying? Is it too much to hear the truth? I know you’ve thought about it, Steven. I know you’ve wanted to kill yourself. I’m just telling you that your instincts are correct. How much better would it feel if you didn’t have to hurt anymore?”

“No!”

“You know what this means, Steven?”

“Stop!” He grabs his head and shakes it.

“_I win_.”

“No!” He lets his head go. “I see now. You’re only doing this because you hate yourself and you’re taking it out on me!”

Pink sneers. “And, _you_ _don’t?_ Look at you. You’re locked up inside of yourself because you can’t stand the idea that I am you.”

“You can’t stand the idea that you’re you either!” he yells. “I may be a coward, but it takes one to know one! You want me to die so you can die, too!”

There is silence for a brief moment, and then, Pink lets out the most harrowing scream that Steven’s ever heard. He has to cover his ears because he’s afraid that if he doesn’t, his eardrums are going to pop (even though he knows his body is not physically present).

(This must be what her tantrums were like back on Homeworld. He’d seen a glimpse of them in his dreams, but seeing her have one in real-time is certainly shocking.)

Pink lunges at him, and he reacts too slowly. Her big, long hands are around his neck, and her grip is so tight that Steven wonders if his head is going to burst. Unlike when he tried to strangle Pink, her fingers pressing into his windpipe make his chest constrict and burn. No air can go in and no words can come out.

It dawns on him that he’s going to die. This is it. Pink Diamond brought him into this world and she is going to take him out.

His ears ring, and his head feels too hot, and his body throbs with blood that is not properly oxygenated. He doesn’t want to give up, but he’s so weak compared to her. He’ll never be able to overpower her.

But, then, something happens.

The dark expanse around them is ripped away and—

He’s solid in his body. He’s in the ballroom. He has big yellow hands holding him still.

“Now, White!”

In an instant, he is thrown back in time, and there are perfectly manicured black nails around his gem.

“No!” he cries out. He can’t tell if the fear is from the strangulation or the idea that he’s going to have to face the feeling of being separated from himself.

It’s too late. It pops out the same way as before.

As he feels himself losing consciousness, he hears the sounds of a gem regenerating and a voice saying, “Pearl! Go!”

There’s a flash of magenta light on his left, and Steven feels himself slump against large hands.


	15. Interlude II+IV (Showtime)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all think it was suicide, but only Steven knows it was Her inside. (She saved him/held him until the moment he died.) She choked him out of his goddamn mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's been listening to zach's album on repeat hahahahahahaha
> 
> also no one is dying guys!! i dont believe in major character death because it makes me sad, but also death is no fun when you can Make People Suffer™

It’s painful to see him in this form, but Garnet, Amethyst, and Connie feel like it’s their obligation to at least keep him company.

He’s not a worm or a lizard exactly, but he’s close to that. Maybe he’s a giant centipede?

“Amethyst,” Garnet warns, but her voice has no conviction behind it, “I’d rather not debate this particular topic.”

“Sorry, I’m just—”

“Uncomfortable?” Connie chimes in. When Amethyst nods, she says, “Same.”

It’s hard to convert their feelings into words. They sit in front of him, looking at his sleeping face, which is so big that it’s larger than all of Garnet and then some. There’s nothing quite like a Corrupted Diamond. As much as it’s horrible, it’s also quite a sight to behold.

Amethyst looks at him like, (_How could you leave? I’m still here._)

Garnet looks at him like, (_I love him so much, and I failed him._)

Connie looks at him like, (_I tried to love him, but it just wasn’t enough._)

They’ve been taking turns crying because they can’t all do it at once—that’d be too much—but it’s all in vain because no amount of crying will get rid of the grief. To Amethyst and Garnet, it’s very similar to the feeling of Rose leaving only a squishy, organic, screaming human behind. Connie doesn’t have an experience to compare it to because she’s young and hasn’t faced loss of this magnitude before.

He makes a noise that sounds like a snort or a groan, and they all jump.

“Why is he still asleep?” Amethyst asks.

Connie’s hands open and close as if they’re falling asleep, too. “Can he even wake up?”

“I don’t know,” Garnet says.

“What’s going on in there?”

“In where?”

“In his mind.” Connie closes her eyes. “He kept saying he was dreaming about Rose. I think she’s talking to him or something. I don’t know, but I’m so worried that whatever is inside him is going to make this all worse.”

(They can’t know that she’s going to choke him out of his goddamn mind.)

They all think about Pearl and how she immediately ran off after telling them the news, saying she had a hunch or two. Not having her there feels like another part of themselves is missing. However, she has given them a flicker of hope, and that’s more than they could have ever asked for.

“I hate that everything always circles back to Rose,” Amethyst says.

Garnet remains silent.

“How do you think he feels?”

“Obviously terrible.” Her head finds her way into her hands and lavender hair falls over her shoulders. “I feel like it was our fault. It has to be our fault.”

“It’s not.” No one is sure if Garnet is saying this to protect them or if she actually believes it.

“It’s just the worst.”

It truly is. Steven has always been their pillar, their raft at sea, but that role turned him into this, and even though it’s not really their fault, they’re very sure that it’s their fault.

Garnet stands.  


“We shouldn’t spend all day here. It’s going to drive us mad.”

Connie feels a few stray tears slip down her cheeks, but she agrees that maybe staring at this manifestation of self-hatred won’t make them feel any better.

* * *

When they come back, Steven is gone. They had only been gone a few hours. What could have happened in such a short time? 

It’s almost impossible not to immediately panic.

(“What’s going on/Oh no/He can’t have gone far/Oh no/Oh no/Oh no.”)

They all whip around at the sound of the doors opening.

Spinel is in the doorway. She’s trying to appear nonchalant, but the illusion is ruined by the way she sways on her feet.

“Hey.”

None of them know how to respond, so Spinel continues.

“Wanna see Pearl and the Diamonds ruin your entire lives?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Garnet all but growls.

Spinel crosses her arms. She’s as devoid of emotion as someone like her can be.

“She hasn’t told you anything? I feel like that’s a total Pink move.”

They all cringe but take comfort in knowing that Pearl couldn’t be like Pink even if she tried. Spinel is just being inflammatory.

“Do you know what she’s going to do?” Connie asks.

“Oh, yeah. But, I’m not going to say it because I don’t think I even fully understand, to be honest. Something about a Rejuvenator and his gem? I obviously missed the breakdown of all his bodily functions.”

They get horrified expressions on their faces because they understand what she means even when Spinel doesn’t.

“Oh my God—”

“She’s not really—”

“We have to stop her.”

“Good luck. Nothing’s gonna stop her. They’re already trying to wrangle him, and once they do—” Spinel laughs, and it would be very cruel if she didn’t sound so defeated. “I just figured you guys would wanna watch.”

Everyone is frozen in place. It’s Connie that steps forward to break the silence.

“If you won’t go, I will.”

Garnet also steps forward. Anyone who knows Garnet knows that she’s panicked, but to Spinel, she probably looks way too calm for the circumstances.

“No, we all have to.”

(They obviously don’t want to, but they obviously have to.)

“Where are they?”

* * *

Steven is throwing a massive fit. Pearl wonders if he knows that he’s in danger or if something is going on inside him that’s causing him to make horrible noises that sound like he’s being tortured. Even the Diamonds are struggling to subdue him, which is truly something she never thought she'd see.

Pearl holds the scythe in her hands, and she can’t help but think of the human idea of The Grim Reaper. Although, The Grim Reaper wouldn't be this nervous. She once possessed steady hands, but ever since she decided this was the only way, they’ve been trembling uncontrollably.

She’s done much worse things, and maybe that’s why this is so heart-wrenching—(_Gem-wrenching? That really doesn’t matter, Pearl. Stop it, stop it_). There’s an image of Pink in front of her, and her sword is in her hands, and she almost drops the weapon, but she’s pulled back to the present by the sounds of Yellow growling while trying to get a grip on the wriggling monster.

He could probably use his powers to hurt them, but it either never crossed his mind, or he’s holding back on purpose. She expects the former because Steven doesn’t seem to be actually present in any way that she can discern, and she’s never met a fully corrupted gem that didn’t start out being malicious.

“I almost have him!”

Pearl clenches her fingers around the scythe’s handle. This really is a living nightmare.

It can only get worse, and it does. Garnet, Amethyst, Connie, and Spinel burst into the ballroom. They’re all shouting at her, except for Spinel.

(“You can’t!/He won’t make it!/Are you crazy?/We can’t handle that!/You have to stop!”)

The only thing she can do is smile at them, her eyelids drooping, her mind separating from her body.

“I knows it’s crazy, but it’s the only thing I could think of. I’m sorry.”

The Crystal Gems try to rush over to her in order to physically stop her, but it’s already much too late. Yellow throws her arms around him, and Steven shrinks back to a more recognizable form, a form more similar to when he almost died in the fountain. He’d gone from being so much larger than her to being a little boy in her hands.

“Now, White!”

The entire room falls into a deathly silence. The gems stop dead in their tracks. They all watch with absolute horror as his diamond is plucked so easily from his body.

_Pop!_

Pearl is no longer present. She shifts into war mode, into (_Do it for him/Her_) mode. 

(_Can’t think/can’t think/only this/only now._)

(His/Her diamond starts to twinkle and glow, and they see each of Pink’s forms until it finally lands on The Monster.)

“Pearl! Go!”

It’s simultaneously the slowest and the fastest moment they’ve ever experienced. Pearl takes a massive leap in the air, and before The Monster can even whip its tail, she swings. 

(It’s a clean cut through its neck.)

Steven falls limp in Yellow’s hands, and the ballroom erupts in sounds of terror. They barely notice the pink diamond rolling on the ground.

When Pearl lands on her feet, the Rejuvenator clatters to the floor. She collapses into a heap, heaving even though she doesn’t need air. It looks like she’s sobbing, but she’s really just panicking. It’s so much like the past that all of her filed away memories are passing through her physical form. Her mind says—(_I can’t do this again/I can’t do this/Oh, Stars, someone save me!_)—but she’s already done it again, and she aches with grief and shame that she hasn’t let herself feel in millennia.

Spinel runs up to her.

“Pearl, we don’t have time for this. You have to get him back.”

She’s so lost in her own episode that she doesn’t react. This is not part of the plan.

“Pearl!”

All she does is shake her head, repeating the word (_no/no/no/no_). 

“Fine!” Spinel shrieks. “I’ll do it by myself!”

She sprints up to Yellow and Steven, somehow managing to rip his body from her grasp. Her arms coil around him, and she takes off in the direction of the warp pad. All the Crystal Gems are running behind her, but she’s way faster than any of them. She’s down the hall and on the warp in an instant, a flash of light swallowing her up.

Pearl didn’t make good on the rest of the plan, but Dr. Maheswaran has. She’s waiting in the Beach House, 911 already dialed. Spinel doesn’t know her name but knows from the coat that she’s probably this “doctor” person that she’s been told about. She shoves the boy into her arms, and the doctor looks absolutely shocked at how close to death he looks, at how he has discoloration all over his body, at how he has small protrusions just barely peeking out of his hair.

She puts him on the couch and checks for a pulse, for breath. Weak but present. That’s a good sign. Out of sheer curiosity, she gently lifts up his shirt so his belly button is exposed.

Or, rather, lack of belly button.

Dr. Maheswaran gasps because she’s never seen a human being without a navel because that should be impossible, but every part of Steven is impossible. She shakes her head because getting distracted now would decrease Steven’s chances of living.

“He’s gonna be okay, right, Doc?”

She looks very serious when she says, “I’ll do everything in my power to keep this boy alive.”

Spinel tries to smile, but there’s so little to smile about that she can’t muster the energy.


	16. Interlude III (Second Thoughts)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take aim with these hands he once possessed, a dozen roses on the pavement laid the rest. 
> 
> His brain has a sickness, so kill it at the source.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry crisis

“Shit. We lost her.” Amethyst kicks the wall, frustrated.

Connie looks defeated when she says, “I didn’t think things could get any worse.”

Garnet adjusts her glasses.

“There’s no use running after Spinel when we can ask Pearl where she’s taken him. She can tell us what she was thinking. There’s also the matter of his gem.”

Amethyst’s head snaps up.

“Oh, man. What even happens when you rejuvenate half of a gem?”

“It’s not half of a gem. It’s Rose’s gem.”

“Right, but she’s half of Steven. Would that mean that she would—?”

“I would rather not jump to conclusions. That is another reason we should talk to Pearl first.”

None of them want to face her and acknowledge the reality of the situation, but they are more worried about Steven and his probable untimely fate than their own comfort.

What they find in the ballroom is a heart-wrenching sight. The Diamonds are around Pearl who is holding the pink diamond in her hands. She cries and cries, and the Diamonds stand solemnly, except for Blue who also weeps.

“I hate this,” Pearl cries. “I hate this so much.”

“Pearl.” Garnet and the others are a few steps into the ballroom when she calls her name.

When she looks up, her expression is one of complete despair, something they hadn’t seen from her for quite a while.

“What did you do?” Connie murmurs, but there is no way she heard her from across the room.

“What did you do?” Garnet says louder. “What’s going to happen?”

She lets out a few more sobs before she finds her voice again. “I don’t know. But, you know what happens when gems are hit by a Rejuvenator.”

The three of them stand in silence, their bodies rigid.

“So, Pink is going to come back.”

Pearl bursts into tears again but starts rattling on regardless.

“We have to do what Steven did for us. We have to find a way to get her back to Steven’s form, but—”

“How is that going to change anything?!” Amethyst shouts. “If we do that, she’s just going to turn into the monster again!”

She’s taking too long to brush away her tears, so White butts in.

“Pearl thinks that she might be able to ‘grow’ and ‘change.’”

“But, she _can’t_,” Amethyst fires back. “That’s why she had Steven! She only cares about herself! She can’t change!”

Blue’s giant tear runs down her face and falls on the ground. “But, if we try to do it all over again, if we show her kindness and compassion, maybe it will heal the wounds that we caused.”

(Trauma is always passed down from generation to generation. The Diamonds traumatized Pink, who traumatized Steven, who will traumatize his child if he has any. Can they actually believe this will solve anything, or are they just as scared as everyone else?)

“How is that going to help Steven if he _dies?_”

“He won’t die. Dr. Maheswaran has promised me that she wouldn’t let that happen.”

“And, what if he does?” Garnet’s words are as solid as stone.

Pearl gets that weird smile on her face again. “Then, you can hate me for murdering Steven. I wouldn’t even care if you shattered me over it because I would deserve it.”

It is only then that they realize just how badly this scenario has messed with Pearl. She looks almost manic, but she gets that way when things are just too much to process. And, there is so much to process that none of them really can.

Garnet decides to change the subject.

“Where has Spinel taken him?”

“To Dr. Maheswaran. They’re going to the hospital. I should be with them, but I—“ she shakes her head, tears falling when she squeezes her eyes shut, “—I can’t.”

(She can’t bear to see him that way because of her.)

“Mom’s with him?” Connie asks.

“Yes,” she sniffs. “She assured me that she’ll do everything in her power to keep him safe.”

Connie remembers the conversation that Pearl had with her mother, and her heart sinks in her chest because Pearl had admitted that something very bad might happen to him. She just never thought Pearl was going to be the instigator. “Her Plans” usually don’t involve this level of risk.

“I thought I was strong enough to do this, but I—”

“Enough,” White says. “Your plan has been executed. Crying will not undo your actions, so there is no use for tears. We must move forward.”

Pearl glances off to the side, her fingers tracing the facets of the diamond in her hands.

(The last time she held this gem, she was about to commit the worst act of her entire life. It’s apt considering this is the second worst thing she’s ever done.)

A bubble forms in her grip, which pulls a confused reaction from the Diamonds.

“What are you doing?” Yellow asks, looking cross.

“I need to talk to the others before anything happens. Please.”

“If you must.”

Pearl turns to the others with pleading eyes, eyes that say (_I’m so sorry_) and (_I never wanted to hurt anyone_). They have no choice but to follow her to the padded room, bubble in tow.

It’s no less sorrowful to be there when Steven isn’t present. In fact, it may be even more depressing because at least they understood the concept of corruption. No one understands what’s happening now.

“Pearl.”

She looks distraught, eyes aimed down at her lap. Shame radiates from her physical form, but she tries her best to suppress it, to not succumb to any more tears.

“You all must think I’m the worst, don’t you?”

“No, we’re just…confused.”

Connie speaks up, her hands held out in front of her. “What is all this for? Why this?”

“Without Pink, there’s no way to heal corruption. And, without being able to heal corruption, there’s no way to help Steven’s state of mind.” She looks up and meets her eyes. Her smile has taken that lopsided edge to it again. “So, I thought that if they were split, we could work with each part at a time. I know it seems insane, but I thought about it over and over and over again. It was the only option that seemed like it had a chance to work.”

They understand the concept, understand the theoretical idea behind it all, but it’s still so shocking. The act itself is enough to throw them all into hysteria, and the fact that they’ve been as calm as they have been is impressive.

“Then, Pink is gonna reform, for real for real?”

She looks at the diamond through the bubble, the cream color making it seem a lighter pink than it usually would.

“That is what I’m expecting.”

“Okay, but P,” Amethyst says, “How are any of us going to handle being around her? We can barely talk about her without one of us throwing a fit.”

“We’re just going to have to do it,” Garnet says sternly. “White is correct. What’s done is done, and we have to deal with the consequences regardless of the difficulty.”

(Replicate trauma but better this time.)

“All I want is for Steven to be alright.”

“That’s what we all want, Connie,” Pearl sighs. “Trust me. I want that more than anything. I know that this is probably one of the hardest things we’re ever going to have to deal with, but we have to. For him.”

They all nod.

“I love you all,” she says and pulls the gems and Connie into a hug.

“We love you, too, Pearl.”

* * *

When The Crystal Gems and Connie return to the ballroom, the Diamonds are standing around quietly murmuring amongst themselves. However, they fall quiet when they hear the doors open and shut.

Pearl stands in front of the group, her eyes glassy and her bubble still in her hands.

“Are you ready?” White asks. She has a twinkle in her eye. Of course, she probably isn’t fond of the idea that Steven may be in danger, but the promise of a reformed diamond is certainly intriguing.

“As we’ll ever be,” Garnet says.

And, with that, Pearl drops the bubble, the gem falling into her palms again. However, it stays dormant for only a moment longer.

The diamond begins to float, and it shines brilliantly, a light seen only once before. Its color is so bright that Connie has to shield her eyes. Maybe it’s brighter than the last time, but that’s the furthest thing from everyone’s mind.

The only thing there is to think about is Her.

Pink Diamond opens her eyes.

* * *

The only thing he can hear is his own breathing. It’s loud in his ears and almost blocks out the sound of beeping beside him. He can’t remember what’s happened, where he is, why he feels like he barely exists at all.

That’s not exactly true. It feels like all he does is exist in a body. Just a lump of flesh and organs trying their best to keep functioning. His eyes won’t open, and as hard as he tries, he can’t move either. He feels so weak—just so weak. It’s like everything that used to fill him up has been torn out of him. His brain has been pulled out through his nose like they used to do with Egyptian mummies. There are no fluttering butterflies scratching his chest, no deep-seated despair crushing his lungs, no anxiety buzzing in the back of his head. 

Just nothing. Nothing at all.

(There’s no Pink, no Rose. He’s alone inside his own mind—or whatever’s left of it.)

Sometimes there are familiar voices around him, but that’s not even enough for him to stir. All he knows is that there’s something strapped to his face that’s making it easier to breathe. Maybe he knows what that’s called, but his thoughts are weighed down and are slimy from the muck in his skull, so he lets it go.

But, there’s something in his hand, and there’s a voice above him.

“What happened…he…tell…and you…”

It’s garble for the most part. People are talking back and forth, but it's all air and breath and sound. Nothing he can comprehend.

“Steven.”

He can comprehend that.

He squeezes what’s in his hand. It squeezes back.

“Steven,” they say again.

“I think he’ll be okay.”

It’s the last thing he hears before he loses consciousness.

* * *

She opens her eyes to see way too many eyes looking back at her.

She knows who she is, and she knows what she’s for, but she also already knows something is wrong because she has to stop herself from collapsing on the ground and falling apart at the seams. It’s like she has been quickly fashioned together instead of compressed under the ground for hundreds of years.

“Hello, My Diamonds.”

She salutes. She feels her body creak as well.

The whole room is dead silent. Something is wrong.

She looks around, and everyone is shocked and stunned and scared and all other sorts of emotions she can’t identify.

(_I shouldn’t be here._)

“Hi,” she tries again, smiling.

(_I shouldn’t be here.)_

(_what have i been brought into_)

She looks around, and even though she’s only been in this plane of existence for seconds, she knows that something is wrong.

(**_SOMETHING IS WRONG_**)

“What’s wrong? It’s not my fault, is it?”

“What would you be at fault for?” White Diamond asks.

The looks on their faces tell her that it most definitely is her fault.

“I-I don’t know.”


	17. Redux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bring her back, and do it once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy 2020 everyone, here's to rebecca ruining our lives

“Oh, Starlight.”

White Diamond’s smile is the brightest light in the universe. She pushes past the other Diamonds and scoops her up, not unlike how she did with Steven.

Pink is rightly confused. Nothing about her situation fits together with the set purpose in her gem. And, there are all these people around. They give her wary glances. A spinel, a pearl, an overcooked amethyst, a garnet, and an…organic creature. Her gem says, (_There should be order_) but there is nothing but disorder in the ballroom.

“You have no idea how much we’ve missed you.”

The sentence is incomprehensible to her.

“Missed me? Where did I go?”

White places her down again, and all the Diamonds look at each other. They even look over to the other gems, but everyone simply hesitates.

“…That may be a story for another time, my dear,” Blue says, reaching out and placing a large hand on her head.

The statement does nothing to calm the bits of anxiety that have begun to well in her. It tells her that something bad happened. If she lived another life, why can’t she remember it? Did she do bad things? Or, was it an accident?

What happened?

She’s distracted by the voice of the pearl.

“I think it’d be best if we took our leave.”

“Yes, that would be wise,” Yellow Diamond agrees.

(_Why? What did I do?_)

Underneath the fear in their eyes, there is contempt. Maybe even hate. Or, anger? There’s too much grief for her to tell. It’s ironic that her purpose is power through empathy, and she can’t even read their faces properly. It just adds to the various things that feel so wrong.

Her eyes close, and the inside of her mind tumbles. Her head rings, and she feels nauseous.

But, the sensation disappears, and she opens her eyes. She knows deep down in her gem that something inside her is deeply broken, but she doesn’t know what it is.

* * *

He looks so small and weak. He’s hooked up to wires and tubes. Connie knows some of the machines. He has an oxygen mask on, which is good. If it was a ventilator, that would mean he was in respiratory failure, and that’s much more serious.

He does have a feeding tube, though, and there’s something inherently harrowing about a tube going into a nose. But, he has to eat, and since he hasn’t been fully conscious since he was admitted, it’s necessary. It turns out that people who lose weight while they’re in the hospital are more likely to die, and her mom knows that.

The other line is just an IV. That’s where she doesn’t know exactly what he’s hooked up to besides saline. She’s afraid to ask her what else is in those hanging bags because then she could look them up and know what’s wrong with him, other than the obvious. 

The breaths in and out, somehow laborious even though his O2 stats are fine. It looks like he’s in pain, maybe? A grimace every so often. Maybe he’s being sedated, or maybe not having his gem—half of his life-force—is doing most of the damage.

She doesn’t remember how long she’s been sitting in the chair next to his bed, but she doesn’t want to leave. Visiting hours end in two—no—one hour, but he’s still just as miserable-looking as when she arrived. She’s sure her mom would let her stay if she wanted, but she needs an excuse to walk away for tonight.

Her hand slips into Steven’s lax one, but for some reason, it tightens around hers. It makes Connie jump because she thought he was completely unconscious.

But, he’s clearly not conscious. His eyes are closed, and even though he’s breathing hard, his breaths are too even for him to be awake. Maybe it's an involuntary response. Or, maybe some part of him is awake. Even people in full-blown comas can often hear the conversations taking place around them. And, if that’s the case—

“I’ll be here for you as long as you need.” She smiles even though he can’t see it. “Wanna watch TV? I think there are some _Under The Knife: Autopsy_ reruns on.”

She presses the ‘on’ button and lets the chatter of the show drown out the fears that plague her.

* * *

“It hurts,” Pink says.

All the Diamonds are sitting with Pink in the cushion room, which makes her feel uneasy for some reason.

“What hurts, Starlight?”

“My physical form.” Her hands grip the sides of her arms. Her entire body is very tense. “I don’t feel right.”

Yellow and Blue look at each other warily as if they were afraid of this.

“Some things happened before you woke up.”

Things…?

“What kind of things?”

“Does it really matter, dear?” White waves her concerns away as if shooing an organic. “What matters is that you’re here, with us, and you’re alive.”

“Was I—was I shattered?”

“Nice going, White,” Yellow says.

White taps her fingers together, looking a bit guilty.

“No…no, not at all…you just weren’t in a good state before. And, now you are! Everything is just how it should be!”

Pink might not know a lot of things, but she knows that’s a lie.

“Why can’t we just sing and laugh like we used to?” she adds.

(_I don’t remember what we used to do._)

She smiles her brightest smile, and she hopes it’s convincing, but she knows it’s not reaching her eyes.

“Do you have any songs I could sing?”

All three of their faces melt into adoration, and Pink feels the first flair joy she’s felt since she opened her eyes.

* * *

The first time he wakes up and can open his eyes, he realizes exactly where he is. Hospital. Walls and ceiling unfamiliar, sterile, uncaring. Not unlike the Palace. 

The Palace.

Oh, no, no, no—the Palace! Memories flood back to him and he remembers exactly the circumstance.

He reaches down and maneuvers his hospital gown so his stomach is uncovered, and sure enough—

No gem.

The horrible way he feels makes sense now. He has been separated from his magic. He’s just a boy now. A sick, half-dead shell of a human boy.

He’s never felt more worthless, more like a waste of space in his life. He honestly has no worth now. Without his powers, without his gem, he’s just flesh and organs barely being supported by medical equipment. It’s all a waste. Why is he being kept alive in this state? Can’t they just let him die already? After the fountain and after the gem thing, it is inconceivable to him that they can’t see how badly he doesn’t want to exist anymore.

Steven wrestles with the idea of ripping off all the leads and running away, but he can’t even find the energy to sit up let alone break out of a hospital.

In this helpless state, he can’t do anything but cry. He cries and cries until he starts to hiccup from the force of his sobbing. Tears run down his cheeks and drip into his ears. He wants to scream, but even if he felt like he could, he’s not going to risk being shoved in the loony bin for strange behavior. Being forced to be physically alive is bad enough, but if he were to be forced to actually admit he’s so fucked up he needs to be hospitalized, he would just jump off the hospital roof and end it already.

Unfortunately, that is when the door to his room opens, and Dr. Maheswaran enters. She doesn’t notice he’s crying until she’s at his bedside.

“Steven, are you alright?”

He wants to scream, to rip out his hair, to punch the wall. 

(_Of course, I’m not fucking alright! I’m not alright at all! I want to die more than I’ve ever wanted to before! How can you even ask me that?!_)

But, Steven opens his mouth and no sound comes out of him. He’s lost his voice? That’s a strange complication. Out of all the things, why his voice?

He holds his hand up to his neck and shakes his head to indicate he can’t speak. Even his sobs are silent. Why—?

“I see.” She writes down various things on a notepad. Apparently, the paper charts they use on _Under The Knife_ are obsolete and everything is recorded digitally now. She puts the notepad back in her labcoat pocket. “I’m not sure what the loss of voice means. Did this happen the last time your gem was removed?”

(_How do you know there was a last time? Connie?_)

He shakes his head.

“Sometimes mutism is a trauma response. I’ve been told the moments before you passed out were very stressful.”

To say the least. 

Everything looping back around to his fucked up brain is absolutely infuriating. If he could stand, he would take the guest chair into the room and slam it into all the equipment he’s hooked up to.

“Are you in pain?”

He shakes his head.

“Good. I’ll be back for vitals in a few hours. Make sure to page a nurse if you start feeling any discomfort. Better to get you on something before it gets worse.”

His head rustles on the pillow as he tries to nod, but its a lot harder to move his head horizontally than it is to move vertically. Whether or not Dr. Maheswaran understands, she turns around and leaves the room.

Steven decides to go back to sleep because he really can’t stand the fact that he’s alive right now.

* * *

Pink has somehow managed to slip away from the rest of the Diamonds, which is good because she needs time to think and put all the pieces of her mind back together. All she knows is that something definitely happened to cause everyone’s strange reactions toward her and that it’s probably something she did.

She sighs. Not much to go on, huh?

The corridors are long and expansive, and she’s most certainly going to get lost, but she kind of likes it like that. Maybe she’ll wander aimlessly until she returns to the place she belongs. Everything is all very close to being familiar and completely foreign at the same time. It feels like she’s spent millennia in the Palace, but her mind holds no records to tell her if that’s true.

(_What did they do to me?_)

That’s a new angle for her to consider. She did something, but maybe they did, too. They know things she doesn’t, and no one wants to tell her. If she can’t remember anything, maybe it’s because they stole her memories. Is that possible?

An unfamiliar feeling starts to grow in her, but even though it’s a new experience, she knows what it is: paranoia. There’s an anxious buzz nestled in her fluffy pink hair, and it tells her that those unfamiliar gems are out to get her. The Diamonds might be, too. They might all be bad and want to use her, which would explain why she can’t remember anything.

When Pink rounds a corner, she accidentally bumps into something, but it’s so small that she only stumbles a bit. The object falls to the ground.

Oh, not an object. It’s the spinel from the ballroom. She’s rubbing her head like she’s in pain.

Pink crouches down. “Oh, no. Did I hurt you?”

When Spinel sits up and recognizes the person in front of her, her eyes widen. Then, she closes her eyes and laughs hysterically. There’s clearly a joke in what she said, but Pink isn’t in on it.

“Nah, not right now, anyway.”

Pink reaches out and helps Spinel stand. “You’re the spinel from before, aren’t you?”

“_Yee-aahh_…” Spinel looks off to the side as if she has no idea how to respond to the question but eventually decides her course of action. “We’re friends.”

“We are?”

“Yup, as of right now.” She shakes Pink’s hand animatedly, clearly getting a kick out of it. “I’m Spinel. I’m part of the court.”

“Oh!” Pink’s eyes light up with stars, hands clapping together. “You must be an entertainer for the Diamonds!”

“I guess you could say that.”

“You’re my first friend! We should do friend stuff.”

Spinel is clearly trying her hardest not to burst into laughter and/or tears.

“Sorry, Pink. I’m not really in the mood right now.”

“Oh.”

“Things are just weird right now. I’m sure you can make more friends and we can all play together later.”

Pink feels like all the energy has been drained from her. Every time she experiences something resembling happiness, someone says something that reminds her that she shouldn’t be happy. She sits down where she’s standing, right in the middle of the hallway.

“Why is everything so weird?”

Just like the Diamonds, Spinel hesitates.

“Well…there’s a lot of…baggage.”

“I know that! No one will tell me what it is!”

She sees panic enter into Spinel’s eyes, but she plays it cool regardless.

“Yeah, it’s real complicated,” she says quickly, walking past her with a similar cadence. “I should get going. Pearl wants to talk—”

Pink reaches out and catches Spinel’s wrist.

“Please, Spinel. You're my friend. Can you at least tell me why I can’t remember anything?”

She looks down at the ground, down the hall, and then back to Pink. She sighs and says, “Fine. You were hit with a Rejuvenator. It resets gems to their original form and settings. You only know what you were originally made for.”

She can’t find any constructive words to say, so she just responds with a quiet, “What?”

Spinel pulls out of her grip. “Listen, I really gotta go. Someone will explain everything to you eventually, I promise.”

She only hears every other word because she’s too busy being frozen by another wave of incapacitating paranoia.

(_They did do something. They do want to use me. Why? Why? What are they hiding?_)

Pink continues to sit on the ground. She’s using all her energy to not burst into tears.

* * *

Tears bleed down his face before he even knows exactly why.

(_Please tell me why._)

The words never even leave his mouth.

“It’s okay, Steven. It was just a nightmare.”

He shakes his head but can’t articulate that the tears aren’t from any nightmare (he doesn’t think he can dream at all anymore, anyway). He’s just so overwhelmed with the feeling of—(_I need it, I need it, I need it_)—that he can’t stop himself from crying whenever he’s conscious. The feeling keeps waking him up. He wants to sleep, but after a while, he jolts awake again.

“I’m right here. It’s going to be okay.”

It’s not going to be okay. He knows it. Connie can’t feel the constant aching of his body that desperately needs his other half. It’s not just weakness, it’s compulsion. His magic is compulsory to his body, and so he craves it like food or water or air. But, it’s not there, so his body keeps telling him to get it. But, it’s not there, so his body keeps telling him to get it. But, it’s not there, so his body keeps telling him to—

He reaches out and grabs a hand—Connie! Oh, Connie…if only she could make it go away. He doesn’t even really understand why his gem was taken from him, but it wouldn’t make much of a difference because a reason wouldn’t get rid of the—(_Please, please, please_).

Tears begin to well up in Connie’s eyes, as well. It’s heart-wrenching every time he sees her cry, and it’s even worse when he’s the one to cause it.

(_I’m sorry Connie. I really am. I’m so sorry._)

But, he can’t speak. Even when his mouth moves, all he can do is take in a breath. They cry together, hands clutching each other in a death grip.

“Steven,” she says, her tears also thick and heavy, “I love you.”

He wishes he could say that he loves her, too, but he can’t. Just like he can’t get rid of the (_need, need, need_).


End file.
